Nargelites
by PerfesserN
Summary: A Harry / Luna / Hermione story that begs the question, what would have happened if Harry had met Luna before either of them attended Hogwarts? Also, what if Harry reminded Severus Snape of Lily Evans, rather than James Potter?
1. Chapter 1

Nargelites

Prologue

Selene Lovegood loved her job.

She loved to tinker and tweak spells and charms, always with a mind to make them safer, more effective and affordable.

She was very good at what she did. The royalties from her previous projects would keep her husband, Xenophilius, in paper and ink for the rest of their very long lives.

Xeno's avocation, the weekly Journal of Disputed Fauna invited debate, both friendly and heated, from every corner of the magical world. With tongue firmly planted in-cheek, he had recently re-named his beloved journal the Quibbler, as it, and he, along with his growing readership, lived for the debate.

Spell-crafters typically don't commute. Working from home gave Selene both quantity and quality time with Xeno and Luna, their precocious, gregarious, almost nine-year-old daughter. Both parents schooled Luna for three to four hours every weekday morning, then, on Saturdays, father and daughter would deliver the Quibbler, by way of Floo. The Lovegoods had worked out a system: Luna would call out the address, toss a pinch of powder into the flames, Xeno would follow through with a banded copy of the journal. Once the fireplace deliveries were completed, Luna would load her red cart with two bundles of the Quibbler for local delivery.

Either Xeno or Selene, usually both, would walk with their daughter into Ottery Saint Catchpole, a quasi-magical community, where mages and muggles lived side-by-side. Luna would carry the Quibbler to a subscriber's door, knock or ring the bell, and either hand the subscription to whomever was home, or leave it on the doorstep.

More often than not the lady or man of the house would be there to greet the popular, vivacious little paper girl. Mrs Hudson almost always had a fresh batch of cookies to share.

Once the Quibblers were all delivered, Luna and parent or parents would do the weekly shopping, load their purchases in Luna's delivery cart, then head home by way of the local ice-cream parlor.

)O(

Samhain was a special time in the Lovegood household, not only did the family celebrate the Sabbat, but Luna's birthday as well. This year, Samhain fell on Saturday, and Selene sent her husband and daughter off by themselves while she prepared the family room for the combination celebration.

Some of the other magical families, the Weasleys, Diggorys, and Fawcetts, always celebrated Samhain with the Lovegoods, bringing baked treats and small presents for the birthday girl. Ginny Weasley, the closest girl to Luna's own age, always brought fresh ginger biscuits. The Diggorys liked to bring cider, rendered from their own apples. The Diggory's were locally famous for their orchards. Sarah Faucett never missed a chance to be near Cedric Diggory, who was two years her senior and a fellow Hufflepuff at Hogwarts.

With Luna and Xeno out of the way, Selene was able to set up the festivities post-haste. Isn't it often the case that one person can often be more efficient than three? She loved her family, but sometimes, when they tried to be helpful, they were anything but…

Being alone also freed Selene to work on her latest spell-craft project.

Quantifying the magical energy released when an object was disenchanted.

She wrote in her Journal:

_The laws of conservation of magic state that magic can't be created or destroyed, only converted. It takes magic to conjure something, dissipating or disenchanting a magical construct releases magic - usually into the ground._

_The magic comes from the Earth, and goes back when it's done._

_The tricky part is measuring it._

For that purpose, Selene had constructed a simple conduit that would offer the least path of resistance to magic as it made its way back to the ground. The amount of time it took the magic to flow through the conduit would be directly proportional to the amount of magic involved. The measuring device was a simple stop watch.

Selene started with small enchantments, household charms mostly. The readings, however, were hard to interpret, passing through the device in less than a second, and therefore of little value.

She needed something bigger.

She looked up at the single tall tower that was their home.

Scratching furiously in her journal she wrote:

_I've got it! If the energy from the tower's ward-stone could be tapped, directed to ground, I should get a good reading. I'd better hurry and get it done before Xeno gets home. If he finds me fiddling with something that powerful I'll never hear the end of it._

_Nothing to do but to do it._

And so, Selene planned to tap into the structural ward-stone for their rook-like tower in order to bleed magic into the ground, thereby making a definitive, quantitative measurement of dynamic magic.

)O(

Xeno and Luna met all three Fawcetts in the market and decided to walk back to the Lovegood home together.

As they topped the hill they could see Selene moving something back and forth on the tower wall. Passing through the garden they got close enough to see that she was trying to loosen a stone.

Xeno went white as he saw what she was fiddling with.

"Selene, no! Don't touch the ward stone!"

Startled, Selene Lovegood turned just as the stone came loose.

She looked at Xeno, then Luna.

She held the powerfully magically charged artifact in one hand, and the conduit in the other.

She was still looking at Luna when the stone released its magic. Tragically, the shortest path to ground was through Selene's body.

Luna could only watch in horror as she heard a frizzle and a pop, and watched her mother's body go rigid, her eyes grew unnaturally wide as an inconceivably massive magical bolt tore through her.

Luna screamed.

She tried to run to Mummy.

But Daddy held her tight.

It took almost ten seconds for the magic to dissipate.

Selene Lovegood was dead after the first three.

Her hair burst into flame after six seconds, then her skin and clothes.

The tall, straight tower, robbed of its structural ward, leaned precariously, then settled crookedly as the torch that had been Selene toppled forward.

Everyone stared in horror at the smoking lump that had, moments before, been a living, breathing witch.

Will Fawcett held his wife, Sandra, who buried her face in his chest. Daughter Sarah fell to her hands and knees and retched.

Only Luna could see the agitated cloud of golden motes as they danced. First in the air above her mother, then away from her and into the Earth.

Chapter 1

Molly Weasley was nice. She and Ginny came to visit every day.

Good thing she did, otherwise neither Xeno nor Luna would have eaten anything. They were automatons, simply going through the motions.

Anne Diggory, Sandra and Sarah Fawcett came in as well, Mrs Diggory handled the funeral arrangements, Sarah picked out the clothes for Xeno and Luna to wear. Will Fawcett shined their shoes for them.

Arthur Weasley and Amos Diggory had been through the wars, both had seen the "thousand yard stare." Both watched Xeno very carefully.

After the funeral service, closed casket, of course, Xeno seemed to be coming back to himself. He greeted all the mourners and thanked them from the bottom of his heart. Especially Molly and Anne for their generosity of time and spirit.

He invited the neighbours into the house for a toast.

"To Selene."

"To Selene."

Arthur Weasley remained behind after everyone else had gone.

Xeno didn't seem to notice. He moved about, picking up, putting dishes and goblets into the charmed sink. He poured one last goblet of elf-made wine, then headed upstairs.

"Luna?"

The little blonde girl, who had been drifting from chair to chair, seemingly fascinated by something only she could see, was startled. She hadn't seen Arthur.

"Yes, sir?"

"Be a dear and run up to your father's room. Then come back and tell me what he's doing."

She ran up the stairs. After a few minutes she walked down.

"He's sleeping, Mister Weasley."

"So soon?"

"He took a sleeping powder, he took a lot of sleeping powders…"

"Dear God and The Goddess, no!"

Arthur ran up the stairs and, indeed, Xeno was lying there, surrounded by waxed-paper envelopes, each one a standard dose of sleeping potion, but this was much, much too much. Arthur Weasley, father of seven, knew many emergency healing spells. If a child accidentally swallows poison, a parent knows three quick treatments. Induce vomiting, purge bowels and bladder, replace blood, if necessary.

Selene, good mother that she was, had all the potions right where Arthur could find them.

As he gathered the vials he was going to need he looked at the girl, the same age as his own daughter, cast a mild compulsion charm, and said, "Luna, sweetie, why don't you see what Ginny is doing right now?"

The highly suggestible girl nodded and walked away.

As soon as she'd left, Arthur forced the first of the three potions down Xeno's throat.

Suffice it to say, the next several minutes were unpleasant.

After an hour or so, and a shower and change of clothes for Xeno, the two men sat at the kitchen table.

"It's my fault, you know. Distracted her."

"And offing yourself is gonna make it all better, eh?"

"Better, yeah, better off without me."

"Who?"

"Everyone."

Arthur sighed, "The only reason I'm not hexing you into the next millennium is that you'd probably enjoy it, figure it's your due."

"Isn't it?"

"Maybe it is, but tell me, how is killing yourself going to help Luna?"

A single tear traced down Xeno's cheek. He had no answer.

"You want to do penance? Here's the deal. I sentence you to life. You will spend the rest of your life being whatever Selene's daughter needs. A teacher, a guide, a friend, a playmate and most of all, a father. You will convince her that she is special and worthy and everything her mother was and more, do you understand?"

Xeno, weeping, nodded.

"Swear."

"I swear."

Arthur shook his head, "Uh, uh. On your magic. Swear on your magic, no, sod that. Swear on the life of your daughter, Luna."

He did.

)O(

Two girls, one ginger, on blonde, sat in the vegetable garden watching the "gnomes" pull back and forth on a large carrot.

Luna frowned, "They're not really gnomes, you know."

"Yeah," Ginny said, "Bill met a real gnome, said it was like a chubby little elf. They do all the banking in Zurich in Swiss-land."

"These little uglies are more like tiny little trolls."

"You mean, like troll dolls?"

Both girls took on identical mischievous grins, "Fred, George!"

The Weasley twins, home for the weekend, for the Lovegood funeral, were in their first year at hogwarts.

"Yes?"

"What can we…"

"…be doing for you, little ladies?"

Ginny smiled, "Could you petrify two, no, four garden gnomes for us please?"

"Sure, but…"

"…what do you want…"

"…with petrified gnomes?"

"We're gonna dress em' up!"

The twins, of course, thought that was brilliant, and set about petrifying half a dozen hapless little uglies. And that was just for starters.

All four children had fun dressing and posing the misshapen little creatures, the garden gnomes, not so much.

When it was time for dinner Molly came out to the garden, drawn to the sound of children's laughter.

What she saw had her running for the family camera.

Up and down the stone garden wall, gnomes were reenacting the Battle of Hastings, and the Fourth and Fifth Goblin Wars. Gnome archers, gnome pikemen, and gnome foot soldiers stood in neat little rows.

In a far corner two gnomes were getting married before a gnomish vicar.

The expressions on the toad-like little grey and brown faces were priceless.

The Weasleys learned a valuable lesson that day. Pitching gnomes will keep them out of your garden for a day, mortifying them will keep them away forever.

Luna looked back and forth, between the garden and the yard and back again.

Ginny asked, "What is it, Luna?"

"I only just noticed, but garden gnomes have, um, nargle-like lights."

Fred shook his head and asked, "Who, what-sis?"

Luna looked up from the wedding scene. "We all have nargle lights, you, me, Ginny, Mister and Missus Weasley. They dance around us, like a cloud of gnats, only you can't hear them, or touch them. When you take a deep breath, you breathe them in, but breathe them out again when you exhale.

"Goats don't have them, chickens don't either. Cats and dogs don't have em', but kneazles and crups do. Some people in town have one or two, while we have lots and lots."

Looking back down at the 'little uglies,' she said, "These have just a few."

"Nargle-lights?"

"Yeah."

The twins and Ginny looked at each other as if to say, "Okay, a little loony, but maybe it'll pass."

Molly took two more photos and announced, "Dinner!"

)O(

Luna returned home carrying a good sized casserole for Xeno's dinner. As she closed the door her father knelt before her, took the dish, set it aside, then gathered his daughter into a tight hug.

"I'm so, so sorry…"

Luna, content to be held, finally asked, "Sorry for what?"

Xeno thought for a moment, then seemed to reconsider, saying, "For not spending the day with you pumpkin, did you have a nice time with the gingers?"

"Yes, we played dress up with a whole lot of garden gnomes."

"That sounds like fun."

"Daddy?"

"Yes, sugar?"

"Is it okay to see something if no one else does?"

"Does what you see hurt anyone in any way?"

"No…"

"No problem then." His brow furrowed for just a moment as he thought of something else, "You might not want to tell people what you see if they can't see it, though. They might get worried about you."

"Okay." She picked up the casserole and put it up on the kitchen table, "Now eat."

"Yes, dear."

)O(

Luna took her father's advice to heart, kept her observations to herself, but never let a chance go by to see who and what had 'nargelites,' as she had come to call them.

Some trees and plants did. Rosemary, for instance, did, but pine didn't. Anything enchanted did, the stronger the enchantment, the more nargelites danced around it. Dormant runes didn't, but active runes, those in use, such as shielding or warding, did.

Nearly all people did. The non-magicals in Ottery Saint Catchpole had one or two, where witches and wizards had lots. Oddly enough, non-magical children had as many nargelites as magical children did. Did that mean everyone had the potential to do magic at some point?

The nice old vicar in town had lots, and he wasn't a wizard.

The two aurors who came to interview her and her dad had lots, but they weren't very nice. They seemed to think her daddy had done something wrong. He was very upset when they'd gone.

In December, articles in the Quibbler started to get more bizarre, stories centered around plots within the ministry and the minister.

Rare and magical animals were pushed to page two.

Subscriptions dropped off.

By late November, Luna only carried one bundle of Quibblers into town. Mrs Hudson met her at the door with a mug of hot chocolate and a pan of fresh-out-of-the-oven ginger biscuits.

She looked a little sad, "Mister Hudson and I will be out of town until after the Yule, Dear."

"No worries, Mrs Husdon, we can resume delivery after the first of the year if you like."

"Let's just leave off delivery for a while, Dear."

Luna didn't cry, but she felt that, if they lost all the Mrs Hudsons from their subscriber list, then there wasn't much point in keeping the Quibbler going.

Walking back from the market she came to a decision.

"Daddy, why don't we go exploring? Maybe look for snorkacks again. I have a really good feeling that we'll see them this year."

Xeno's eyes lit up at the mention of his favourite disputed fauna. Indeed, the Quibbler had been founded on a heated snorkack debate between him and Selene's great aunt, Arabella Figg.

"Oh, if I could just bring back a photo, or even a footprint, that would put paid to that old argument!"

"Maybe we can get Auntie Arabella to come with us?"

"To Sweeden? Never happen. She'd never leave her kneazles."

"Well, we'll just have to bring the snorkack to, um, where does she live now?"

"Little Whinging, on Wisteria Walk."

"We'll have to bring the snorkacks to Little Whinging!"

Such was Luna's enthusiasm that Xeno booked a portkey for the following Thursday.

)O(

Yule morning, Arabella Figg answered the door to see her favourite niece's husband and daughter. Both had red cheeks from the bitter cold and warm smiles, face splitting smiles, ear to ear, toothy grins.

Xeno handed her his latest copy of the Quibbler, at which Arabella rolled her eyes, and motioned them inside.

"Front page news Auntie, read it and weep, oh you who doubts!"

The banner headline read, "Snorkack Found!"

Below was a grainy photo of a rock, in the snow.

"Photographic evidence Auntie!"

"This is a picture of a rock, Xenophilius."

"Turn to page two."

She opened the paper and saw four more photos.

"It's the same rock, dear."

"Isn't it brilliant? It's why they've never been seen before, now look closely."

She did.

"Keep watching…"

"…and…"

The rock blinked.

"What?"

Xeno laughed, "Did I tell you? Luna saw it, she said, 'take a picture of the snorkack, Daddy,' and I said, 'that's just a rock, dear,' and she said, take the picture, Daddy, before it moves again.' And I did and it moved, just like she said it would.

Xeno opened his suitcase and pulled out a bottle of brandy.

"Toast?"

"I'll get the glasses!"

"Oh, my bag, Daddy, it's on the steps. I'll get it."

Luna opened the front door to pick up her bag and came face to face with Harry Potter.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Hello."

"Hi."

She held out her hand, "I'm Luna, Luna Lovegood."

He took it and gave it a cautious shake, "Harry Potter."

Luna froze, still holding Harry's hand, "Are you really?"

"Um, yes?"

"_The_ Harry Potter?"

"I'm the only one I know about."

She let go of his hand, then ran into the house, yelling, "Daddy!" But then remembered she'd left _Harry Potter_ on the front step.

Trying to compose herself as much as possible she returned to the door, "Um, won't you come in out of the cold?"

"Thank you."

Meanwhile, Xeno and Arabella had gone to the foyer to see what the fuss was about.

"Daddy, Auntie Arabella, please meet Harry Potter. Harry, this is my Daddy, Xenophilius Lovegood, and my Auntie Arabella Figg."

Xeno blinked twice before he found his voice, "Good god, are you really?"

"I already know Harry, dear. He's one of the children I mind here in Little Whinging."

"About that, Mrs Figg, Aunt Petunia would like to know if you can watch me on Christmas Day while they're off with Aunt Marge."

"Of course, dear, can you stay for tea?"

"Um…"

"Oh, please stay." Luna implored.

"Aunt Petunia didn't tell me to come right back, so I suppose it's okay."

"Excellent, I'll put the kettle on."

Harry was still standing in the foyer, Xeno and Luna, not quite open-mouthed, but staring nonetheless.

"Um, may I come in?"

The Lovegoods shook their heads as if clearing cobwebs and tried for a little decorum.

"So, you, live in Little Whinging?"

Harry nodded, "Over on Privet Drive."

"With family?"

"My Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon and Cousin Dudley."

"And do you go to school?"

Harry was taken aback by the question, "Yes, of course, Boxgrove Primary."

"Oh, it must be nice going to school with other kids."

"You don't?"

"No, I take lessons with Dad. It used to be Mum and Dad, but it's just Dad and me now."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

Luna shrugged, "Thanks."

The silence was becoming awkward, to the point where Harry was about to go when Mrs Figg came in with the tea.

"Oh, I need sugar, Xeno, be a dear and help me reach it down, here, I'll show you where."

That left the two children alone.

Harry was getting uncomfortable with Luna's wide-eyed inspection of him. He was already self-conscious of his oversized hand-me-downs and she seemed to be trying to memorize every aspect of his body, "Um, are you looking for something, have I got something on me?"

"Yes, you do."

He stood up and did a quick self-inspection, "What, what is it?"

She maintained her unblinking, disconcerting gawk, "You have more nargelites than any three people I've ever seen, Harry Potter."

Harry's face went red, "What's that supposed to mean? Is that like the lurgy or something? Why are you having a go at me? I've never done anything to you!"

Luna paled, "No, I mean, um, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"I should say not."

The frosty silence that followed allowed both children to hear Luna's dad shout, "What do you mean he doesn't know about magic? He's Harry _Bloody_ Potter for Merlin's sake!"

Harry's shoulders slumped, "That's it, I'm going now. I'd like to say it's been lovely, but it hasn't been, not by a long shot. Good bye."

He walked to the front door and opened it.

That was the precise moment Mister Tibbles and two of his mates decided to make a break for it.

Luna cried, "Oh, no…"

The cats took off in three different directions and Harry headed for Number Four Privet Drive.

Normally, Harry would have stayed to help entice the cats back, usually with the promise of tuna, but he felt justified in leaving the mess, having been insulted by a complete stranger and her father, not five minutes after having met them.

"_Harry Bloody Potter_ indeed, who _were_ those people?"

Turning left onto Privet he noticed Mister Tibbles standing on the low wall of Number six.

Harry removed Dudley's old two sizes too large coat upon entering Number four.

"Well, boy, what did Mrs Figg say?"

"She said it was okay, Aunt Petunia."

"Good, I'll not have you lazing about the house all day while we're gone. God knows what you'd be into."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia."

"Good Housekeeping says I need to prune my roses now."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia."

Harry re-donned the coat and walked to the garden shed for the pruning shears.

There were no gloves that would fit his hands so he would have to alternate clipping hands while the other was re-warming in the pocket of the oversized jacket.

"Pisst!"

Harry turned to see Mister Tibbles.

He stared at the cat, who stared back, "Did you just 'pisst' me?"

The reply was an agitated whisper, "That was me."

A small, sandy blonde head peeked above the low stone wall, so that he could only see her from the nose up. Quirky little bird, what was her name? Luna.

He wasn't happy to see her, "Oh, it's you. Come to have another go at me?"

The girl was obviously trying hard not to be noticed by anyone else.

"I'm sorry, I really am. I don't know what I said, but I promise I wasn't being mean, I mean, why would I? We've only just met."

Harry put both hands in his pockets to warm them.

"Harry, I know you don't know me, but I need you to trust me. Can you do that, I mean, right now?"

"Um, I don't know. Why should I?"

"Something is about to happen, and I don't want it to happen to you. I need you to take this."

She gave him a small stone, a white crystal with what looked like a stylized letter 'B' etched into a flat surface.

"What is it?"

"It's a rune. A white quartz crystal with the protection rune, 'beorc' engraved into it. It's a magic charm, no I'm not kidding, and if you don't do what I ask, you'll never remember what I just told you."

Harry looked askance at the little blonde.

"Someone is coming, he'll be old and kindly and friendly like, but he doesn't want you to know some things. He'll make you forget. You have to have the protection rune touching your skin or it won't work. Promise me you'll do that, promise!"

"Well," he thought, "it won't hurt to play along,"

He nodded just as the girl squeaked and ducked out of sight.

Harry turned to see and old man in a long coat, with the longest beard he'd ever seen outside of a fantasy novel.

"Harry, my boy, it's good to see you again."

"Sir?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, you wouldn't remember me, you were but a baby at the time. Oh well, no time like the present."

Seemingly, from out of thin air, the old man pulled a stick, which he pointed at Harry, saying, "Obliviate!"

A warm feeling flowed through him. He found the rosebush particularly interesting, all twiggy and sticky with thorns.

The old man said, "You will not remember me, nor will you remember any mention of the word 'magic' while at Arabella Figg's home. Everything else you will remember. Oh, and you'll avoid young, blonde girls for the foreseeable future. Goodbye, Harry. See you next year."

With that the old man walked away.

Harry mumbled to himself, "Can this day get any _weirder?"_

Slowly, tentatively, Luna peeked up over the stone fence, and whispered, "Harry? Harry!"

In a voice completely devoid of emotion Harry intoned, "I'm sorry, but you're a young, blonde girl. I have to avoid you."

"Oh, no!"

"Relax, I'm just having you on, turnabout is fair play." He pulled the rune from his pocket and stared at it. "Either he's a complete fake or this thing really works."

"Oh, he's no fake. He's probably the most powerful wizard in the world. Can we go somewhere warm? It's freezing out here."

"My relatives would never let me bring anyone inside."

"They will if they don't notice me."

She pulled two more rune stones from her pocket and slipped them into her bracelet and was gone.

Just gone!

Looking about, Harry asked, anxiously, "Hey, where'd you go?"

He was startled when she took his hand, because the moment she touched his hand, he could see her.

"It's a notice-me-not charm. When I let go of your hand, you won't see me, but I'll be here. Just go inside. I'll follow you to your room."

"Okay, but I hope you don't mind tight spaces."

She released his hand and he had to trust that she would be there.

"Boy, are you done with the roses?"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia."

"Well, go to your room, I have to take Duddykins out for his dental appointment."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia. May I use the loo first?"

"Make it quick."

He did, then went into the cupboard beneath the stairs. Sighing as Petunia Dursley snapped the bolt shut.

Once Petunia had left, Harry heard the bolt slide open.

"Are you being punished?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why did she lock the door on you?"

"She always does that."

"Where is your room?"

Sitting on the child's mattress on the floor of the cupboard he couldn't make any grand sweeping gestures, so he just looked around and said, "This _is_ my room."

"Harry Potter's room is a cupboard, beneath a stair?"

"Yeah."

"There's no place else in this big house for you to sleep?"

"There's the guest room, but that's for Aunt Marge when she comes to visit. Then there's Dudley's room, but he doesn't share, and there's Dudley's other bedroom, but, like I said, he doesn't share."

Luna Lovegood was usually fairly even keeled. Unflappable. But the more she learned about Harry Potter and the conditions he was forced to endure the angrier she got.

Harry, having never known differently, didn't know why she was so angry all of a sudden.

"It's not normal, keeping a boy in a cupboard, locking him in like he's some kind of criminal, what kind of people are these _relatives_ of yours?"

The way Luna pronounced the word 'relatives' made Harry think of something you'd scrape off the bottom of your shoe. Or, for that matter, the way his 'relatives' would describe him.

Shaking his head he asked, "You wanted to talk?"

"Yes, I had to see you, to try to keep Dumbledore from obliviating you, that is, make you forget, like he did Daddy and Auntie Arabella."

Harry stepped out of his 'room' and stretched, "Since I'm out, let's get something from the kitchen, and you can tell me about obliterating and magic and such."

He led Luna into the kitchen and set about making tea.

"First, there's something you have to know. Magic is real. If you don't believe that, if you choose to deny what you've already seen with your own eyes, then nothing I say here will matter." Unlike his Uncle Vernon, Harry wasn't about to dispute what he'd seen with his own eyes, "Go on."

" You saw how my bracelet works, but there's so much more. There are such things as witches and wizards. We do magic, we have wands. We fly around on brooms."

What followed was a brief description of the two worlds, magic and mudane, and how it was important that the magical world stay hidden.

As she described her world, Luna couldn't help but notice Harry's absolute economy of motion, and, indeed, in no time there was a pot of tea brewing as he made little tea sandwiches.

She also noticed that he surreptitiously ate ingredients as he went along, when he cut the crusts off the bread for the cucumber sandwiches he didn't toss them, he ate them, along with the cucumber rind and seeds.

He even ate a spoonful of raw scone batter.

When the oven timer went off he served up hot, steaming scones, Devon cream, tea sandwiches and tea, all perfect, all perfectly timed.

He stood in the corner and waited for Luna to eat.

"Won't you join me?"

"Um, sure." He said, uncertain whether he could actually sit at the kitchen table.

"Don't you eat when your relatives eat?"

"No, I'm usually too busy cooking. My Uncle Vernon and Cousin Dudley eat a lot."

Luna split a scone and put a healthy dollop of Devonshire cream on it and handed it to Harry, saying, "Bon apitite!"

"Merci beaucoup. Now, what happened at Mrs Figg's?"

"Well, you heard Daddy shouting how was it that Harry Potter didn't know about magic. Auntie Arabella went all rigid, then walked over to the fireplace and called Dumbledore. She was under some kind of compulsion curse, so I pulled out all my protection runes and set them into place on my bracelet, see?"

She showed Harry how the crystals fit into recesses on her bracelet.

Dumbledore came in and, just as Daddy asked why you don't know any magic the old man pulled his wand and yelled 'obliviate,' just like he did with you. Only Daddy and Auntie didn't have any protection.

Dumbledore said, "You will forget that Harry Potter lives in Little Whinging and you will forget your Aunt Arabella knows anything about the boy-who-lived. As a matter of fact, you should probably forget that you even have an Aunt Arabella."

He was about to leave then he said, "I'd better make sure Harry doesn't remember anything either. Ah, tea!"

"He sat himself down to tea and I came looking for you. Good thing Mister Tibbles led me right here, as it was, I barely got to you in time."

The two children sat in silence for a long time.

Harry held up his scone and took a big bite, then hummed, "You know, these are even better when they're cooked."

"Harry, why do you stay here?"

"Because I'm ten years old. They're my only relatives. If they don't take me in, I'll go to an orphanage, like in Oliver Twist."

"If you could live somewhere else, would you?"

"Sure, in a heartbeat, but who would take me in? I'm worthless, just ask my Uncle Vernon, he tells me that ten times a day."

"You could stay with Daddy and me, at least for a while. Would you like that?"

"I don't know…"

"You could sit at the table and eat with us like a real family does."

"I can cook, and clean, and keep a garden and paint and…"

"We don't need a house elf, it's just the two of us now and we do for each other. But no one should be treated the way your _family_ treats you."

"It's no more than what I deserve, I'm a burden on them, and need to work hard to make it up to them."

"That's it. You're coming with me."

"Where?"

"Home, my home. Go pack your things, we're leaving."

Daring to hope, Harry ran to the cupboard, pulled out his meager wardrobe, three vests, two pants, two pairs of trousers and an odd number of holey socks and bundled them all together in an oversized shirt.

He added two books, an old dog-eared copy of _Lord of the Rings_, and _The Chronicles of Narnia_, "Okay, that's everything."

Luna made a mental note, they were going to need to go shopping, "We just need to go back to Auntie Arabella's street."

"Wait," he said, "won't someone see us leaving?"

Luna smiled and held out her hand. In her palm were the two rune stones that she'd used to not be noticed.

"If we're both touching the stones, neither one of us will be seen."

"So, we're like, invisible?"

"No, not invisible, although there is a spell for that. We just won't be noticed."

"This isn't all some kind of joke, is it? Uncle Vernon isn't going to be out on the lawn laughing as we try to leave?"

Luna took his hand, squeezed it and said, "No joke, Harry."

In Harry's memory, at no time did anyone ever offer to hold his hand.

He decided he liked it. When they got to Wisteria Walk they saw Xenophilius walking up and down the footpath, looking confused.

"Here," Luna whispered, "Hold on to the runes while I talk to Daddy."

Harry felt a little lost when Luna let go of his hand.

"There you are, pumpkin. Um, I'm a little confused. Why are we here?"

"I'll tell you when we get home, Daddy. Can we take the Knight Bus?"

"Sure."

Saying that, Xenophilius held out his wand, and, with a bang, the triple-decker, purpurated Knight Bus burst onto the street.

"Stay with us, Harry."

"Who are you talking to, sweetie?"

"Um, just my imaginary friend, Daddy."

"Oh, okay."

Luna and her dad got on the bus, Harry followed cautiously.

"Sit down, and hold on to something, Harry."

He did and was glad for it as the bus flung itself out of the muggle reality and into madness.

Before long the conductor sang out, "Ottery Saint Catchpole!"

Harry didn't need to be told to follow the Lovegoods off the bus, he was happy to be shot of it.

Through the woods outside the small town and up the hill and Harry saw the strangest "house" he'd ever seen. It looked like a crumbling old tower. Strike that, it _was_ a crumbling old tower. Some of the upper blocks were missing, well, not so much missing, he could see them littering the lawn. Daylight showed through some of the gaps in the wall.

"You _live_ here?"

Luna smiled dreamily, "Yeah."

"Hullo, who's this?"

Harry looked around, "You can see me?"

Luna held out her hand for the rune stones, "Concealment charms don't work inside our wards."

Harry at first thought she wanted to hold his hand again, so he clasped hers.

"Um, I just need the stones, Harry."

"Oh," he said, quickly releasing her small hand, "sorry."

"It's okay."

Turning to her father she said, "Dad, this is Harry Potter, yes, _the_ Harry Potter. Before you ask anything else, we have to go inside."

Passing through the one door on the ground level, Harry was immediately taken aback by the difference between the "Rook" tower's dilapidated exterior and it's interior.

For one, it was a lot bigger on the inside, clean and well lit by skylights. Neat trick since they were on the ground floor and the tower appeared to be at least five stories high.

They sat on a great big comfy couch and Luna told her father what had happened that day.

About their visit to Auntie Arabella's place, Dumbledore's obliviation and attempted obliviations.

"Wait, we have an Aunt Arabella?"

"Yes we do, Daddy. Dumbledore just stole her from your memory."

"Why did he do that?"

"Because Auntie Arabella is a link to Harry Potter, Dumbledore is using her, Daddy, he's controlling her."

She then described Harry's home life, how he was kept like a slave and a prisoner, sleeping in a tiny cupboard, waiting on his relatives hand and foot.

Xeno found it all very hard to believe. Surely no one would treat family that way.

"I saw it, Daddy. He sleeps in a cupboard, under a stair, on a baby's mattress."

"Have they ever hurt you, Harry?"

"Once, about three years ago, my cousin Dudley hit me with a fireplace poker. Broke my arm. They didn't take me to a doctor until my arm began to swell up something awful. The Doctor had to re-break it in order to set it."

Xeno went to the fireplace and threw in a small pinch of powder.

The flames turned green and Harry gasped as Mister Lovegood stuck his head in the fire.

"It's okay, Harry," Luna assured him, "Daddy's just making a floo call."

Five minutes later a lady in a lime-green robe stepped out of the fireplace. Xeno introduced as Healer Marissa Sessions.

"What's all this, then?" she asked.

Luna said, "First, we need to reverse an illegal obliviation on Daddy. Dumbledore made him forget some stuff. Then we need you to give Harry here a complete physical."

"An illegal obliviation by the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot? He'll probably overturn his own conviction. Conflict of interests, much?"

The healer set about her work, which seemed to require several small bottles, a large, red crystal and a white stick with two intertwined snakes engraved along its length.

"Obliviation doesn't really make you forget anything. What it does is make you unable to retrieve certain memories by blocking or redirecting pathways to wherever the memory is stored. The sooner I can see a person after obliviation, the easier it is for me to reestablish the pathways."

Harry thought to himself, _Is that a ruby?_

Healer Sessions held the crystal up to her eye and used it like a lens to study Xeno's noggin, a few taps on the crown with the thinner end of the stick, peer, tap, peer, tap, tap, tap.

After a short while she smiled, "Ah, ha! There it is."

One more light tap and Xeno's eyes snapped open, "Why that son of a…"

"Now, let's see about our young master Harry."

"Potter, ma'am. Harry Potter."

Healer Sessions looked slack-jawed at her patient. Then looked at the Lovegoods as if to ask, "Is he, really?"

Both nodded their heads, and said, "Yes, he is."

"Please, Mister Potter, lie down on the sofa."

"Should I take my shirt off?"

"Why?"

"I dunno, the school nurse usually had me take my shirt off."

"Not necessary at this time, just lie back and relax."

She waved her red-tipped, white wand in a crisscross pattern starting at Harry's head, ending at his feet.

"Very good, Mister Potter, you may sit up. Now, tell me about your relatives, your home, friends and school."

As he spoke, the healer took copious notes. By the time he'd finished, Healer Sessions had filled a long scroll with notes, front and back.

"Xeno, you need to engage a solicitor for Mister Potter's protection, and probably yours as well. I'll make a copy of my notes for you to have and another to be placed in a secure vault with the goblins."

Luna finally broke her silence.

"Please, Healer Sessions, is Harry okay?"

"He is as good as one can expect from an overworked, underfed boy of ten. If I didn't know how old he was I would have thought he was seven or eight. The good news is I have a series of treatments, including diet and exercise along with a whole range of nasty potions that will put him back where he belongs on the growth chart."

Looking at Luna's dad the healer said, "I assume your home and property are still shielded from detection?"

He nodded, "Yes."

"I would recommend a glamour, as well as something to mask his magical signature, which, by the by, is one of the strongest I've ever seen."

"Mummy had some charms for that, Daddy."

Xeno nodded in agreement.

"We can begin whenever you're ready, Mister Potter."

"What, now?"

"No time like the present."

He took a deep breath and said, "Let's do it."

)O(

A big shout-out to Brian over at Caer Azkaban for helping me find the British equivalent of 'cooties.' Also, a debt of gratitude to Tommy King, who volunteered to be my brilliant Brit picker, to give this story a more authentic British voice.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Healer Marissa Sessions was in a quandary.

Her young patient was obviously the victim of abuse and neglect, but reporting the facts of his case would bring him to the attention of the very authority who had put him in that situation in the first place. She had no doubt that the Supreme Mugwump could and would obliviate her so thoroughly that she'd lose years of medical education and experience.

She kept reminding herself that she wasn't being paranoid; it's not paranoia when the danger is genuine.

The healer watched the boy, a child, really, twitching every few minutes as bone and muscle and internal organs played catch-up with the calendar. He'd already grown five centimeters, and had at least another two or three to go.

He was on his fifth beaker of high protein nutrient potions to provide the building materials his rapidly growing body needed.

Pity he had to be conscious for the procedure, as it was painful. Young Harry endured it though. Largely because of Luna. When he would twist and moan, she would be there with a cool flannel, or she would hold his hand, which had a calming effect.

Luna took the time to tell Harry the story of the Boy-who-lived. How Harry Potter, a mere toddler, had defeated the most powerful dark lord of the Twentieth Century. How his parents had been betrayed by their best friend. Of James Potter's brave stand, and Lily Potter's choice, to place herself between her beloved child and a pitiless murderer.

"But when Voldemort turned his wand on you, he couldn't kill you. Oh he tried, but when he did, the killing curse bounced back and destroyed him instead."

Through teeth clenched in pain, Harry asked, "Hah, how?"

"Dumbledore reckons it was your Mum. She used some unknown magic, old, old magic. And when she gave her life for yours it gave you special protection. Truth is, no one knows, really."

Harry winced, then shuddered.

A tear traced down Luna's cheek, "How much longer, Healer Sessions?"

She checked her watch, "Not long, then he'll be over the worst of it."

"Did you hear that, Harry? Just a little longer."

He smiled bravely, but didn't trust himself to speak again. Afraid he'd cry out if he dared open his mouth.

Xeno's voice echoed up from the cellar, as he shouted, "Ah ha! I knew it was in here!"

He came up holding a wide, jewel encrusted, golden cuff. The healer recognized the goblin markings on the bangle.

"That isn't…"

Xeno nodded, "A changeling armlet, Selene called it the _Chameleon Cuff."_

"Those are proscribed by the Ministry of Magic."

"So are illegal obliviations, child abuse and neglect."

The healer sighed and nodded.

Xenophilius handed the bracelet to his daughter, "He needs to put it on as soon as possible."

Luna asked, "Will it hurt?"

"A little, at first. Not as much as the growth potions."

"Will it change his appearance? I mean, isn't that the purpose of a changeling's bangle?"

Xeno shook his head, "No, this bracelet is set to change a mage's magical signature. Outwardly, he'll be the same, well, other than the changes we plan to make."

"Alright then," Luna said, resignedly, slipping the bracelet over his hand then up his arm.

Harry looked curiously at Luna, and the odd arm jewelry.

"It'll hide you from the Ministry."

"I-I did, didn't ge-get you any, anything."

Luna touched her forehead to his, "Just a little while longer, Harry."

The healer frowned, "That scar is going to be a problem. It's the most famous scar in the wizarding world."

"Can't we cover it up?" Xeno asked.

"We could, but you'd have to cover it twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week."

Luna looked pensive, then asked, "Could we move it?"

Healer Sessions and Xeno looked at each other and shrugged.

"I don't think that's ever been tried."

"Maybe you could move it up above his hairline?"

"Let's try and see."

It was an odd feeling for Harry, as his skin quite literally crawled up his forehead to the top of his crown.

It was Xeno's turn to frown, "Anyone seeing that black, unruly mop is going to be reminded of James Potter."

"What color was his mother's hair?"

"Lily had red hair, auburn, not brassy like the Weasley's. And he already has her green eyes."

Marissa set about transfiguring Harry's hair, easy to do since the recessive, red-headed gene was already there. She just had to unlock it.

"I would let the hair grow out so that its long enough to be manageable."

"Now, how to register him?"

Luna asked, "Register?"

"Magical births within Great Britain are entered in the Ministry of Education's register."

"So, Harry will have to be a recent arrival from… where? Canada, Australia, New Zealand?"

Xeno smiled, "Guyana."

Luna asked, "Where?"

"Former British colony, the magical government there is notorious for poor record keeping. Yes, it fits."

Marissa chuckled, "I'll make the entry myself. Recent arrival from Georgetown, Guyana, cousin to Lily Evans. It would be best if we use your real first name, so Harry or Harold?"

Harry sighed, feeling a little better, "Harold, that way I can still be called Harry."

"Harold Evans it is, I'll take care of it this afternoon. When would you like your birthday?"

"Doesn't matter, I've never had any kind of birthday celebration."

"Well, if we make your birthday on or before September the first, you can start your Hogwarts education next year, after that, and you'll have to wait another year."

"Waiting another year might be good, that way I'll have more time to learn about magic before I go."

Luna shook her head, "No, Harry, you need to go sooner rather than later."

"You sure? You won't be going until the next year."

"Perfect, I can copy all your notes from the first year!"

Harry sighed, "Pick a random date in August, Healer Sessions."

"Please, Harry, call me Marissa. After all, we're all partners in crime here, we should be on a first name basis. As far as your birthday, how about August twenty-fifth?"

"Works for me, why that date?"

"Easy for me to remember, it's my birthday."

)O(

If Harry had any doubts about the existence of magic, they all evaporated as he stood to look into the mirror at a complete stranger.

He was tall for his age, well, taller than he had been by a good three or four inches. His hair was reddish brown, "auburn" they'd called it, and long enough so that it didn't stick out all over the place. He doubted that his aunt or uncle or cousin would recognize him.

It was December twenty-third, he had just over nine months to learn as much about the world of magic as he could.

Harry chuckled, "I want to learn the ways of the Force and become a Jedi, like my father."

Luna _"squee-eed!"_ at Harry's Star War's reference. "Daddy and I love the muggle cinema, we go once a month to the Odeon in Devon, and we've seen all the Star Wars films. I love the little goblin warrior, Yoda."

"I watched Dudley's videos when I could get away with it. I wonder if the people who made the movies know about magic, and are just using film to show how it works?"

Luna looked thoughtful, "Mummy asked Daddy that same question…"

Shaking herself, she asked, "You ready to learn some magic?"

"I'll try…"

In her best, gravelly Yoda voice, Luna growled, "Try not. Do. Or do not. There is no try…"

For the first time in his life that he could remember, he didn't have to worry about out-shining his cousin. For the first time in his life he could apply himself fully to his studies.

He took to it like a duck to water.

A large part of his studies centered on cryptozoology, mostly because there were so many books in the tower about rare and improbable, and probably mythical, creatures.

When he couldn't find an entry for a creature, he would simply ask, "Luna, what is a heliopath, or what is a slurtle?"

She would provide the information and, most of the time, a reference.

About three weeks into January he asked, "Luna, what can you tell me about nargelites?"

Luna's normal, serene expression fell, and she sat on the couch next to Harry with a heavy sigh.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"No, it's not that, I just, well, it's hard."

"That's okay, forget I asked."

"You know how I seem, well, distracted sometimes?"

Harry nodded.

"I see things. I'm pretty sure I see magic."

"How?"

"I'm not sure, but when my Mum, when I lost… Well, since that day, I've been able to see little, golden motes, like clouds of gnats around magical people and animals and plants and things."

"I remember the first thing you ever said to me was, quote, "you have more nargelites than any three people I know," unquote, and I thought I'd just been insulted."

"I've observed a wide variety of magic gnats, nargles, and I thought the little glowing motes looked a little like them, although nargles are whitish-silver. So I called them 'nargle-lites,' and then nargelites.

At first, I thought they were just different kinds of magical gnats, but when you get closer to a nargle, close enough to look through a magnifying lens, you can see it's like a little bug. But no matter how close I get to a nargelite, it's just a speck, a tiny, glowing speck of light.

I even made a microscope slide and looked at one at a magnification of sixty, and it was still a non-descript, glowing little light."

)O(

Luna's mother had created what amounted to a null space as far as the ministry magical detectors were concerned, mostly to protect copyrights on the spells she crafted. One of the happy by-products was that no magic could be detected within the tower. So Luna had been practicing with a wand since her fourth birthday. Harry tried a few basic wand-magic spells but with lackluster performance.

"No worries, Harry, we'll get you your own wand."

This bothered him.

Luna, sensing his change in mood asked, "What is it, Harry?"

"It's just that the Dursleys were always going on about how I was a financial hardship on them, and now, here I am, a burdening you and Xeno."

Luna turned to her father and asked, "Daddy, how rich were the Potters?"

"Not as rich as the Queen, bless her, but much better off than, say, the Malfoys."

"Can we go to Gringotts, please?"

"You just like talking to the goblins."

Luna smiled a tight-lipped smile, one that didn't show teeth.

)O(

Harry stared at everything. The alley, the people. The new, expensive looking, black silk robes that Xeno insisted he wear, but most of all at the goblins of Gringotts.

Luna gave Harry some last minute reminders, "Remember, Harry, try not to smile, if you do, for Goddess sake don't show any teeth. Let me do all the talking. Don't offer them your hand unless it's to give them the token, understand?"

"Don't show teeth, give them the token when you say so, let you do all the talking. Got it."

"Good boy!"

They walked into the bank and ignored the long queues, making a bee-line for the ornate, gilded doors at the back. Two demi-trolls blocked their way with vicious looking, without a doubt, razor-sharp halberds.

Luna growled and spat something that sounded like, "Back off!"

To Harry's amazement, they backed off.

The doors opened to reveal six old goblins, open mouthed in shock.

"What are you doing here? Get out!"

Luna snarled, "Shut it!"

The doors clanged shut.

What followed was less like a conversation then a long overture by a chorus of scalded cats, there was much growling, shouting and spitting. Until, at last, a portly goblin in a gold-embroidered long coat stepped in from a side door.

Luna and Xeno dropped to one knee. Harry quickly followed their example.

"Your gobbeldy gook is excellent, youngling, and your profanity prodigious indeed. I believe we can do business. Is this The Potter?"

Luna nodded, then whispered, "Harry, the token."

Harry rose, still not meeting the goblin's eyes, and held the golden token in his palm, offering it to the Goblin Seneck, or leader.

"The Clan Potter offers the return of this goblin artifact as a token of our good faith, Seneck Goblin."

"What would you have us do, youngling?"

Luna said, "Freeze all Potter assets after today, call it an audit, but let no wizard or witch touch either the main vault or the Potter trust vault for seven years. Meanwhile, invest the funds as you see fit, provided we see no less than twenty percent growth per annum for a period of ten years."

"And anything over twenty percent?"

"Call it the Potter incentive for the Goblin Nation to invest wisely."

"You realize, of course, that the Potter Magical guardian will object, strenuously."

"Then you should remind the Potter Magical guardian that his own accounts may also require auditing."

The Goblin Leader inclined his head, "May you be reborn a Goblin of the first rank. By the unspoken Name of the Matriarch, It shall be done."

Luna hawked and spat over her left shoulder, hissed like an angry cat and backpedalled in the direction of the gilded doors, which were opened by the demi-trolls, who were, themselves down on one knee.

Harry and the Lovegoods didn't turn to leave until the ornate doors were again closed and the guards stood at their posts.

"Well done, Harry. That was the Goblin Seneck, the leader of the Goblin Nation and second only to The Matriarch, who is, for all intents and purposes, the Goblin Goddess."

Luna led them out looking for all the world like a queen, until she saw, "Oh, _purple_ pixies!"

Harry smiled, he knew she couldn't last, not with so many colorful distractions.

)O(

The next stop was Flourish and Blotts, where Harry picked up all his first year texts, even though he still had most of the year to wait, then to the apothecary and lastly, Ollivanders.

"Uncle Ollie!"

"Xeno, Luna. You know I'm not supposed to give you your wand until next year, when you begin Hogwarts."

"Then why did you give it to me as a birthday gift two years ago."

"Because what we do is not always what we're supposed to do?"

Ollivander looked at Harry as if he were from another planet.

"I don't know you, young sir. Yet I can see you are a wizard. Are you muggle born, that is, a first generation wizard?"

Luna whispered, "Harry, take off the arm band."

With a polite, "Excuse me, sir." Harry reached all the way up his left arm and removed the changeling bracelet.

"Ah, Mister Potter! I was wondering when I'd see you. It's a bit early, but fortune favors the prepared, eh?"

A few questions, some measurements by an overly enthusiastic and invasive charmed tape measure, and Ollivander gave Harry a series of wands to try.

None of which would suit.

The pile of disregarded wands grew alarmingly large.

It had been years since Ollivander had enjoyed a challenge as much as this one.

"A difficult customer. Not to worry, if we don't find one, we'll make one!"

He went into the back muttering to himself.

When he returned, it was with a single, long box that he held almost reverently.

"Try this. Eleven inches, holly and phoenix feather."

As soon as Harry grasped the handle there was a warm glow and subtle forces, like wind, swirled around him. He gave it a wave and an impressive array of bright red sparks geysered from the tip.

"Curious...very curious..."

"Sorry, but what's curious?"

"I remember every single wand I've ever sold, Mr Potter. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather. Just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother gave you your scar."

Harry touched the spot on his forehead where the scar had been.

"Not to worry, Mister Potter, no one can see it; I know it's there because I know who you truly are."

Harry replaced the changeling bracelet, then waved the wand once more, just to be sure. No worries, the wand had chosen him, and wouldn't be fooled.

"How much?"

"Seven Galleons."

Luna gave Harry a small, velvet bag.

"What's this?"

"It's your moneybag, it connects to your trust vault."

"I thought that was locked down."

"Harry Potter's trust vault is locked down, Harold Evan's vault is fine. The goblins transferred the contents of your trust vault to, um, your trust vault."

"Ah, Harry's to Harold's?"

"Exactly."  
Harry pulled the coins from his moneybag and asked, "Is there anything I should know about maintaining a wand, should I bring it in for tune-ups or the like?"

"Very good question Mister, ah, Evans is it? Yes, yes, when you get a little older it will be normal for you to want to polish your wand daily, sometimes more than once a day. Perhaps Luna will help you with that little chore."

Luna smiled and gushed, enthusiastically, "Anytime, Harry. Just ask."

"Thanks."

)O(

If you close a chapter with innuendo, does that make it end-nuendo?

Many thanks to Tommy King, Brit picker extraordinaire!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was having a bad day. The myriad, intricate devices that he used to monitor Harry Potter's whereabouts and wellbeing had simply stopped. Some of these gizmos wouldn't stop if the boy were dead. Everything stopping was basically saying that Harry simply didn't exist. In fact, you could argue, from the sheer lack of activity, that Harry Potter had _never_ existed.

Most likely there was a disturbance in the aether, sunspot activity or atmospheric phenomena. If it didn't clear up in the next few days, Dumbledore would take a little trip to Privet Drive.

Meanwhile, he was the Magical Guardian of someone who, one, had a trust vault at Gringotts and, two, apparently didn't exist. There was no reason to not completely empty the boy's vault and add it's contents to his own.

Dumbledore did not and would not condone thievery. He didn't see this as stealing, but simply making use of a strategic asset to which he was entitled, that he could use, for the greater good, of course…

)O(

"What do you mean 'Access Denied,' I'm Mister Potter's Magical Guardian and I say I need funds for his upkeep, his well-being, his primary school education."

The human employee, a mere lackey who was the liaison between working goblins and human mages, pinched the bridge of his nose and repeated, "Certain inconsistencies have been noted in transactions and deductions from the Potter Trust vault. As Master Potter's Magical Guardian, you have the right to remove every knut from his vault, but you must account for the funds, demonstrating, beyond the hint of reproach, that any and all moneys from the trust do, indeed, benefit young Master Potter."

"You have my assurances, as Headmaster of Hogwarts, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards that all funds withdrawn directly benefit young Mister Potter."

"Fine, Headmaster. Just swear on your magic and your life and I'll get you the key."

Pause.

"Whenever you're ready, Headmaster."

Longer pause.

"Surely the word of the Chief Warlock will suffice."

The man let out an exasperated sigh. "The Goblin Seneck told me you'd say that."

"And?"

"He said as soon as you say those exact words that _all_ the Potter vaults would be locked down, pending completion of the audit of every single transaction and holding down to the last knut."

"But, but that could take… _Years!"_

"Six years, eleven months, twenty-nine days."

"I shall protest with every resource at my disposal."

"The Seneck said you'd say that too."

The Chief Warlock felt ice forming in the pit of his stomach, "And?"

"And, he said, and I quote, "It may be necessary to audit the Headmaster's accounts as well." Unquote."

Without another word, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore turned on his heel and left the office, the bank and Diagon Alley.

Back in the bank office, the accounts manager reached up his arm and removed the changeling bracelet, one of only three known to exist, and reverted back to his base form, that of the Goblin Seneck.

He smiled a rare, toothy smile.

"By the unspoken Name of The Matriarch, may you be reborn a deformed goblin of the slave sub-class."

)O(

Xenophilius Lovegood woke to the wonderful smell of breakfast. Throwing on a dressing gown he all but ran down the spiral stair to see Harry in the kitchen tending bacon, fried potatoes and eggs while tea steeped and coffee brewed.

It was exactly the scene that greeted him the first morning Harry had graced their humble tower.

)O(

Flashback: Morning of Harry's first full day with the Lovegoods.

"Good morning, Harry."

"Good morning, Mister Lovegood. I wasn't sure if you took coffee or tea, so I made both."

Luna came down the stair in her dressing gown, rubbing sleep from her eyes, "Daddy? You made breakfast?"

"No, Pumpkin, Harry did."

"Oh, this will be good then, he makes a marvelous tea!"

Xeno and Luna sat at the kitchen table as Harry served the meal.

Luna beckoned her favorite chef, "Sit with us Harry, this is your home now."

As before, he sat, unsure if he were really allowed to sit at the table. What if someone needed more food, or a refill on their coffee or tea?

Father and daughter held hands, then each took one of Harry's hands in their own.

Luna lowered her head and said,

"Lord and Lady,  
We give You thanks for this food.  
Please, bless those who were instrumental  
in bringing it to our table.  
Grant that it will go for the health and  
well-being of our bodies.  
Blessed Be."

Xenophilius added, "And thank you, Harry, for preparing this wonderful meal for us."

Something caught in Harry's throat, and he ran from the kitchen, sobbing.

Xeno sat there, shocked, "Did I say something wrong?"

Luna shook her head, "No, Daddy. I'll go see what's wrong."

He floo called Healer Marissa Sessions as Luna went in search of Harry.

She found him on the couch that he'd slept on the previous night. Later that day they were going to prepare him a proper bedroom.

Luna sat beside Harry, took his hand in both of hers and asked, "What's wrong?"

"I. I don't know. It's just, you're so nice to me and you said 'thank you,' and no one has ever, _ever_ said thank you to me and I can't stop crying and I never cry because crying means you're weak and that they've won and, and…"

Xeno and Marissa, listening from the doorway into the kitchen came in and sat on the opposite side from Luna.

"Harry, son, there is a very special pit in Hell for people who would murder hope and happiness in a child, especially a wonderful boy like you."

The Lovegoods enfolded Harry into a three-way hug and let him cry himself out.

Marissa said, "I wondered when this would happen. Harry's been forced to keep his emotions in check, to the point where he couldn't really express his anger or grief or despair. Let me guess, something simple, trivial maybe, set him off this morning?"

Luna nodded, "We thanked him for making breakfast."

"Gratitude is one of the most powerful emotions."

Xeno held Harry close, "Go ahead, son, let it out. Crying doesn't mean you're weak, it means you can feel, and it will help you heal."

After an age Harry stopped crying, and just luxuriated in the warmth and love of his newfound family.

Then his eyes flew open, "Oh! Oh no!"

"What is it?"

"Breakfast is all cold now, the eggs and the bacon and the coffee and tea and…"

"Not to worry, son. That's what warming charms are for."

Luna helped him up off the couch, "Come on, I'll show you how."

They re-heated and finished breakfast, talked about the village and the other magical families in the area and made plans to furnish Harry's room.

"Um, Harry?"

"Yes, Mister Lovegood."

"Xeno, Harry. Please call me Xeno."

"Yes, Xeno?"

"How did you start the stove?"

"It's a wood stove, sir. My Uncle Vernon has a sister with a wood stove and I have cooked on it a few times."

"So you've been up for hours already."

"About two hours, sir. Is that alright?"

"Of course, but you don't have to get up early everyday and cook and clean for us. We all do for each other in this house. For instance, Luna and I take turns cooking. If Luna cooks, I clean up and vice versa. I take care of the lawn, but we both tend the gardens. You see? We share the chores around here."

"That's going to take some getting used to, Mist, um, I mean, Xeno. Back at Private Drive, I did, well, _everything."_

Luna put her hand on top of his, making him smile as he always did when she touched him, "You don't live there anymore."

"No, I don't. You know, I may have lived there, but I never ever thought of it as home. And now I _never_ will."

At that precise moment, in Little Whinging, powerful wards that had been keeping Number Four Privet Drive anonymous came crashing down.

The Goblin Seneck received notice that another Potter property had come to light. By half five, the three Dursleys found themselves on the kerb with only the clothes on their backs as they were evicted from the home where they had lived, rent-free, for the better part of ten years. All their assets and accounts were frozen, pending a thorough audit. Grunnings, reeled from a barrage of bank audits that implied malfeasance on the part of their director of sales, a certain Dursley, by name. The company suspended Vernon without pay. The Grunnings employee, a man that had been junior to Vernon the day before, took his beloved company car with a feral smile, saying, "Just until this mess is all worked out."

The folks at number six were kind enough to let Vernon pay for a phone call to his sister, Marge, who was less than pleased to take in her 'poor relations.'

One of the workers who had been hired to prep the house for sale noticed the cupboard under the stairs. Memories of his own upbringing, years of suffering abuse and neglect, came rushing back. He called 999.

Constable Mary Wright was large for a woman, hell, she was large for a man, nearly six feet tall and well muscled. For all that she had a kind face. Her partner, Martin Brothers, was a soft-spoken man who happened to be a martial arts expert. His hand to hand skills were a local legend. Martin ran the local Judo club, and Mary was one of his most enthusiastic members.

Whenever cases of child abuse were suspected, the Chief Inspector always called on "Mary and Martin." And so it was that the two constables interviewed the Dursley's neighbors, teachers, and fellow students.

"Yes, there was a young boy, maybe seven or eight. Tiny little thing. Harry something or other. Worked him like a slave that family did. Imagine a seven year old boy, pushing a lawnmower in the heat of the day. No, never saw that Dudley child do any chores."

"Where is the boy now?"

"Dunno."

If Marge Dursley was unhappy with her 'deadbeat' brother and his useless wife and son before, she was positively livid as the two uniformed officers interviewed them all, including herself, Marge Dursley. Marge Dursley, pillar of the kennel club, who had never, ever been touched by scandal!

"So what if that ungrateful son of a bitch ran off, who cares?"

"How long has Harry been missing?"

"Dunno, few days maybe, not really sure."

"Why didn't you report him missing immediately?"

"Why should I?"

Constable Brothers put a restraining hand on Constable Wright's shoulder. If anyone in the room was paying attention, they would have known that mayhem was moments away.

"Do you have any recent photos of your nephew?"

"Why would we waste the film?"

"That's done it!"

Constable Brothers didn't bother to restrain his partner, but he did take the time to ask, "And what are you doing?"

"Me?" she asked, sweetly, "I ain't doing nothing, this lot, though, is resistin' arrest, ain't they?"

The three adult Dursleys made it to the police station alive, but were somewhat worse for the wear.

Their killer-whale of a child was packed off to children's services. That department immediately put him on a strict diet for the grossly obese.

The only picture that made it to the Surrey Herald was a grainy, school photo from two years before.

Harry Potter, age 10. Missing. Feared dead.

Arabella Figg picked up her paper, red the small blurb at the bottom of page one and fainted.

In the Headmaster's office, in Hogwarts, alarms sounded and whistles blew as the one working Potter tracking device, a ward detector, exploded.

Pity the Headmaster wasn't present to witness his last link with Harry Potter go ka-blooie!

)O(

The post owl was interesting. Harry had never seen an owl up close and personal before, and this one was carrying a large envelope in his talons.

Harry looked at the owl and asked, "Do you want me to take that?"

With an exasperated roll of the eyes, the owl nodded.

As soon as Harry grasped the envelope the bird flew off.

"Thank you." He said to the retreating tail feathers.

The envelope was addressed to his alter ego, Harold Evans.

"First letter I've ever received in my life and it's addressed to someone else, delivered by a surly bird."

He opened it to see what Healer Sessions, no, Marissa, had sent.

It was everything he needed to establish his new identity, birth certificate, school records, the works.

Harry shared the contents of the envelope with his family.

Xeno smiled, "Sometime this summer you should receive your Hogwarts letter."

)O(

Capturing the images of the hither-to-unproven snorkack was a huge boost for the Quibbler. Circulation was at an all time high. This prompted Xenophilius to go in search of even more obscure animals. Luna and Harry loved to go on these expeditions, unfortunately, not all sojourns were kid-friendly. The elusive demiguese-sloth was rumored to be somewhere deep in the Amazon rain forest, and Xeno was keen to go. He'd be gone the first two weeks in February.

Xenophilius kissed his daughter and gave Harry a manly hug, "You'll be at the Weasleys for two weeks. Ron is the same age as Harry, so they should get along, and you are already good friends with Ginny."

)O(

Mrs Weasley pulled Luna into an all encompassing hug, then gave Harry a polite squeeze on the shoulders and asked, "Now, who do we have here?"

"Harold, ma'am, Harold Evans, but everyone calls me Harry. The Lovegoods were good friends to my cousin Lily Evans."

"As were we, Dear. A tragic loss that. Bad times, those were bad times. But, life goes on and here we are, welcome, Harry, welcome."

Ginny Weasley came in and said, "Harry? Harry who?"

"Harry Evans, dear."

Ginny looked disappointed, "Oh, hi."

Luna smiled mischievously, "Ginny swears she's going to marry Harry Potter."

"Well, I am. Just you wait and see."

"I guess I'll just have to settle for boring old Harry Evans."

"Oi!"

That was when Ron came galumphing down the stair, "Is it lunchtime yet?"

"In an hour, Dear, come meet our new friend, Harry."

"Harry?"

Ginny piped up, "Harry Evans."

"Blimey, another ginger! Do you play chess?"

"Never have."

Ron looked crestfallen until Harry added, "But I'm keen to learn."

Molly stopped their leaving, "Chickens first, then you can play."

"But, Mum!"

Harry asked, "Can I help?"

Molly and Ron were both impressed, Molly because her youngest son never volunteered for anything, and Ron because he could see his chores reduced by at least half.

"Come on, then. I'll show you."

The Weasley's raised chickens for eggs and goats for milk and cheese to supplement Mister Weasley's civil servant salary.

The girls gathered eggs while the boys cleaned the coops and put out feed.

"After lunch we need to tend to the goats then we can have all afternoon to play."

Molly called the children in for lunch.

Harry had never seen a human being put down as much food as Ron Weasley. And he'd lived with the _Dursleys._

Luna leaned in his direction and whispered, "Ronald has five older brothers, so he eats as much as he can, as often as he can so that he doesn't go hungry."

Harry shook his head in disbelief, "But none of his older brothers are even here."

To which she shrugged, "Old habits die hard, I guess."

Milking the goats was the strangest thing Harry had ever done.

Grab, encircle the teat, push up, squeeze, pull down and…

Nothing.

Meanwhile, Ginny and Luna are making the bottom of their milk-pails sing as stream after stream of creamy milk flowed seeming effortlessly.

Ron shrugged, "I can't get it as good as Mum and Ginny. My brother Bill says it's great having a girlfriend that can milk a goat, and then he laughs like crazy."

Harry looked perplexed, "I don't get it."

Ron shook his head, "Me neither, let's have a game of chess."

Ron really was good at chess. He showed Harry how all the pieces move, then played two 'exhibition' games, by sitting one side, moving, then getting up to stand behind Harry to direct his moves.

"It takes maybe ten minutes to learn how the pieces move, but a lifetime to get really good at it."

Molly called the girls to help with dinner, and Harry was right there.

"What can I do for you, Dear?"

Luna explained, "Harry is a good cook, and he likes to learn new recipes."

Ron stood in the doorway to the kitchen, dumbfounded, "You cook? Do you clean house and do laundry too?"

Harry looked confused at the question, "Yeah, of course, why?"

"Blimey, mate! You're gonna make someone a right nice wife someday!"

Molly fumed, "Ron! That's rude. Now go de-gnome the garden!"

"But, Mum, there ain't no gnomes in the garden."

"Pull weeds then, everyone in the kitchen is learning to cook!"

Harry started to leave, but Luna said, "Stay, Harry. Mrs Weasley is teaching us how to make goat-cheese stuffed croissants."

"Cool!"

)O(

The clock on the mantle chimed as the hand depicting Arthur Weasley pointed to 'travelling' then 'home.'

He gave his wife a peck on the lips and bellowed "Evening Weasleys!"

The response from two children and one spouse seemed hollow, somehow.

"Well, that's a lot more impressive when there's seven sprogs 'round the table, eh?"

Arthur took his chair at the head of the table and noticed Harry for the first time, "Hullo! And who're you?"

"Sorry, sir. I'm Harold, sir. Harold Evans. But everyone calls me Harry."

"Evans, Evans…" Arthur seemed to be running a list, "You're not related to Lily Evans by any chance, are you?"

"I'm told we were cousins, sir. I don't really remember her."

"I see red hair and green eyes run in the family, and you're a wizard too?"

"Looks like, sir."

"Very polite too, but it's okay to call me Arthur. You say 'Sir,' and 'Mr Weasley,' and I start looking around for my Dad!"

They all had a laugh over that.

"Hullo, Luna. Good to see you again, after, well… Well it's good to see you again."

"Thank you, sir."

Ginny asked, "Daddy, who is Lily Evans?"

"Was, Dear. Was. Tragic story that. Lily Evans married James Potter, and together they had a son…"

Ginny squealed, "Harry Potter!"

She looked at 'Harold' and practically bounced in her chair, "So you're Harry Potter's cousin!"

Harry looked down, not liking to lie, so he said, "I'm sure Harry Potter has lots of cousins he doesn't even know about."

The news that Arthur was going to share, about Harry Potter being missing and presumed dead would wait for another time.

Like most hard-working farm folk, the Weasleys turned in early. Luna and Ginny bunked together, but Harry was given his own room, "On account of my brother's snoring can wake the dead!"

"Lots of room, Dears, lots of room." Molly said, wistfully. It was plain that she missed having a large group of children and their friends underfoot all the time.

)O(

Harry was well on his way to sleep when Luna and Ginny came into his room

Ginny whispered, "Everyone else is asleep."

Curious, Harry asked, "What's up?"

Luna smiled and said, "We are, now follow us."

He threw a house robe over his pajamas and followed the girls out the kitchen door and to a shed that bordered the garden. A simple _'alohamora'_ opened the door.

Ginny handed out two stout-looking brooms and chose a third for herself.

"Brooms?"

"For your first flying lesson, Harry."

"Here? Now? It's freezing out here!"

"Yes, the best time, no one else is about. There's a full moon so visibility is great, and if you fall, you'll land in snow… Perfect!"

Ginny assumed control of her 'flying class.'

"Lay your broom down, stand to the left, hold out your right hand and say, "Up!" You don't have to shout it, but be sure to give it clear directions."

"Ready? Okay. Up!"

Harry imagined the fun, the _freedom_ of riding up in the air, above it all and clearly enunciated, "Up!"

And the broomstick flew into his hand with a "Smack."

Luna's was a close second, followed by Ginny's.

"Excellent! Now step over the broom, that's it. Place your feet in the stirrups and remember, smooth movements. Let the forward, leading edge of the broom stay in the front. Imagine it's a horse. You give it it's head, let it go, but always, _always_ remember you're the one steering it!

Harry, flanked by the two more experienced flyers, let the broom take him up into the cool, clear air.

The freedom, the exhilaration, the awesome view as the full disk of the moon rose over the snow-covered countryside was completely and utterly indescribably beyond anything Harry had ever experienced. Thanks to a very effective warming charm, courtesy of Luna, no one had to suffer the cold, mid-winter's night air.

"Higher!"

"Faster!"

"Climb, dive!"

"Tag! You're it!"

"Woo - who!"

The trio flew for the better part of an hour, climbing, diving, looping and rolling. They all played follow the leader through a wide-open horse barn.

Harry's broom started acting sluggish, like it was getting tired.

Ginny saw and understood, "These are really old brooms, Harry, we'd best be heading back."

They flew back as a sedate speed, letting the slowest broom set the pace, enjoying the moonlit vista.

It was the happiest Harry ever remembered being.

When they set down by the open door of the broom shed Harry pulled both girls into a tight hug.

"Thank you, thank you both! That was amazing!"

Harry slept that night, dreaming of unencumbered flight and freedom.

Meanwhile, in the master bedroom, Molly asked, "When was the last time you went, _woo - who?"_

Arthur sniggered, "Help me set up the silencing wards and I'll remind you…"

)O(

Again, cheers (raising a glass) and thanks to Tommy King, who kindly stepped up to the plate to give this story a more authentic British voice.

A note on Xeno. He's a lot more focused in this tale, as is Luna, because of Harry. He is also an eligible widower in a society where witches greatly outnumber wizards. I hope to give him some interesting encounters in the future.

I got so many comments on the wand-polishing "end-neuendo," all of which were positive. Remember, these are kids, they're only ten years old at this time. Nothing is going to happen until they mature physically and emotionally. This isn't a 'do-over' story, with adult characters suddenly finding themselves in children's bodies, it's an Alternate Universe. Let's let them be kids for a while longer.

Finally, I would be remiss if I didn't send out a big 'thanx!' to Aealket in FF dot Net for his insightful suggestion to make Harry's 'kitchen breakdown' scene a flashback. Thanks, mate.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The following morning, Harry was up early, but not earlier than Molly. They agreed to make scones for breakfast to go along with bacon and eggs.

The smell of food brought the rest of the Weasleys down. They all raved about the scones, which were a combination of both Harry and Molly's recipes.

Arthur went off to work, Molly and the four children had a reading lesson, mostly on potions, a subject Molly had shown a particular talent for in her years at Hogwarts. By way of an assignment, she had the children bundle up against the February cold, then go out to the woods and forage for potions ingredients.

As soon as they entered the forest, Luna led Harry up the slippery, lichen covered branches of a Sessile oak to where clumps of mistletoe grew.

"Don't we have to worry about nargles?" Harry asked.

Luna smiled, "You're learning. Right now the nargles are hibernating. We just have to beat the mistletoe against the tree trunk when we get down to dislodge them."

Ten minutes into the 'field trip,' Luna had armloads of athelas and dried rosemary, along with mistletoe and holly.

"Blimey," Ron shouted, looking shocked, "How do you do that?"

"Mum and I used to grow a lot of our own potions ingredients, so I guess I simply know it when I see it."

Harry knew that magically reactive plants would be infested with nargelites, which he couldn't see, but that was okay. Hell, for that matter, he hadn't known magic existed six weeks before.

Ron smiled and said, "How's about I take this stuff to mum, and you three keep gathering, okay?"

That seemed reasonable, so, "Okay."

An hour later, Ron hadn't come back, and the remaining trio had as much magical flora as they could carry.

When they arrived in the Weasley kitchen, it was to see Ron sitting at the table, destroying a heap of biscuits, sipping tea.

Ginny seethed, "You were supposed to come back and help us. Some of these roots were the very devil to pull up out of the frozen ground!"

"You were doin' fine wifout me," he mumbled through a mouthful of biscuit. "And mum said that I'd already brought back enough plant stuff."

Luna was calm in her delivery, but anyone with half a brain could tell she was upset at having been taken advantage of. "Plants that you didn't collect. Wasn't that the idea, Mrs Weasley, so that we could _all_ find the best plants for potions?"

Molly didn't mean to be a living, breathing, cliché for red-heads, but seeing sweet little Luna Lovegood taken advantage of lit her short fuse. The browbeating began with a ninety-seven decibel, "Ronald Bilius Weasley!" The tirade ended with, "You'll spend the rest of today changing the straw in the chicken coops and you've seen your last biscuit for a month!" With a flourish, Molly vanished the platter of biscuits and sent her youngest disappointment scurrying for the door.

Ginny had to calm her mother down, "Here, Mum, have a chair; cuppa tea?"

A deep breath, exhaled slowly and Molly Weasley was her old, sweet self again.

"We could all have one, dear, thank you."

Ginny smiled, "Some biscuits would be nice…"

Molly chuckled, waved her wand and the platter re-appeared.

"I didn't vanish them, just disillusioned them so Ronald would think I had. Tuck in, Dears."

Inside the low-ceilinged chicken coop, Ronald Weasley seethed, in a mocking, whinging voice he whined, "Wasn't that the idea Missus? Nyah, nyah, blah, blah. Just you wait, _Looney_, you'll get yours."

He'd chased the chickens out of their warm nests into the cold February air, rather than just shuffle them from one side to the other. Bullying chickens might have made him feel better, but it would cost the Weasleys half their flock from pneumonia.

Along with half their egg-money.

Money that Molly had been counting on to buy new school robes for her youngest son.

Oh well, they'd had to make do before.

)O(

Saturday morning came early, Luna and Harry excused themselves after breakfast so that they could make the weekly Quibbler deliveries.

Ginny asked, "Can I come, too?"

"If it's okay with your Mum."

"Oh Mum, may I go, please?"

"Run along dears, we'll have some nice fresh bread and soup for lunch when you get back."

Harry and the girls ran up Stoatshead Hill, slipping occasionally in the mud created by the recent thaw. Luckily, no one fell over. The trio stomped their feet before entering the Rook Tower, where Xeno had pre-printed the Quibblers for the two weeks he'd planned to be gone. They were so excited that they didn't notice the furtive ginger following them apace.

"Harry, if you'll put the stacks for local subscriptions in my red cart, Ginny and I can start the Floo deliveries."

"Right."

He hefted the two heavy bundles of paper into the cart, then went inside to help the girls band the Floo deliveries.

)O(

Ron strolled up to the cart, looked down the other side of the hill from the Burrow, and smiled. Originally, he'd planned to hide the Quibblers up a tree, and make "Looney" sweat a little, but this was much better. This was easier. This didn't require a lot of effort on his part. He pulled the heavy-laden cart around, pointed it in the right direction, then gave it a shove.

Hands in his pockets, feeling very pleased with himself, he strolled down the hill for home.

)O(

With three people banding, calling out addresses and pitching papers, the Floo deliveries were done in record time.

Very pleased with their progress, Luna pulled two one-pound notes from the biscuit jar so they could have ice-cream or perhaps a hot chocolate when they were done.

They stepped out of the front door and noticed the cart was conspicuous by its absence.

"Um, Harry? Where's my little red cart?"

"Right here, uh, well, it was. I left it right here. Could it have rolled off?"

They started to split up until Ginny noticed the tracks. The heavily laden conveyance left tracks in the muddy soil.

At the bottom of the steep hill was the overturned cart, and two large bundles of newspapers, all splattered with mud.

"How?"

Luna tried not to cry, but in the face of such petty cruelty, how could she not?

"Some, someone pushed my cart down the hill…"

She couldn't say anymore, she just buried her head in Harry's shoulder and cried.

Ginny patted her back and said, "Well, nothing to do but to do it," and started down the steep slope.

"Ginny, wait." Harry said, "I'll go, I'm the one who left it outside."

"Yeah, but you didn't pull it around the tower and roll it off the top of the hill."

Looking down they saw the distinctive pattern of Wellington boot tracks.

"Whoever did it went that way." Harry said.

No one had to say that he was pointing in the direction of the Burrow.

Luna touched both their shoulders and said, "Give me a minute, before you try to climb down, okay? It's steep and muddy."

She went into the house and came out with her and Harry's wands.

Ginny's eyes went wide, "You have _wands?"_

"Ollivander, the wand maker, is my Daddy's uncle."

Luna turned to Harry, "Accio on three, ready?"

"I've never tried to summon anything this big before."

Luna grinned, then, in a low growling voice, said, "Size matters not!"

"Accio Quibblers on three, two, one… _Accio _Quibblers_!"_

The two thick bundles of papers shook, then, one after the other, rolled up the slippery slope, coming to rest at Luna's feet.

Harry looked back down the hill, pointed his wand and said, "_Accio_ cart."

The little red conveyance righted itself, then rolled up the hill.

Luna said, "Quick, help me get these muddy papers inside, off the wet ground."

Once inside, Luna snipped the bundling twine, then set aside the most mud-soaked papers.

"Not too bad," she said, "help me with an _evanesco_, okay?"

Harry nodded.

_Evanesco_ removed the mud, but left the edges a bit wet. Still, it could have been worse. Five more feet and the wagon and papers would have been in the stream, now a muddy torrent from the recent snow melt.

"Daddy always prints a few extra copies."

With what they were able to salvage, plus Xeno's extras, there were just enough Quibblers left to fill the local subscriptions.

Harry, Luna and Ginny made their rounds, and even had a complimentary copy for the proprietress of the local ice-cream shop. Who then reciprocated with complementary mugs of hot cocoa for the hard working people of the "fourth estate."

Walking back to the burrow, Ginny asked, "What will we do about Ron?"

Harry looked at Luna, who raised one eyebrow, "If we accuse him of dumping our papers, he'll just deny it."

Ginny looked thoughtful, "If there was any kind of evidence."

Harry said, "There were those footprints heading for the Burrow."

Ginny shook her head, "They'll stop at the gravel road."

Luna shook her head, resignedly, "We'll just have to trust and believe in the Rule of Three."

Ginny, seething now, kicked a semi-dried lump of mud, "Maybe, maybe not."

)O(

When they got back to the Burrow, Molly was in the barn berating Ron about something as the three children removed their muddy Wellingtons.

Harry frowned, "Ron's Wellies look practically new."

Ginny, still doing a slow boil from her brother's "prank" said, "Yeah, newly washed. Luna, why don't you and Harry go help Mum with the goats, I'll be in the house."

Molly was relieved to hear that the paper deliveries went well, after a small spot of bother.

Ron perked up at that, "Yeah, what happened?"

Harry shrugged, "Luna's little red cart did a runner. Got some mud on a few papers is all."

That had Ron curious, "Just a little mud, eh?"

Luna, looking up from the goat she was milking said, "Nothing that couldn't be cleaned up in a trice."

Ginny came in with another pail, "Need a hand, Mum?"

"Thank you, Ginny Love, I can go stir the soup."

"Smelled like chicken soup, Mum."

"Well, it's like your father always says, if a Weasley is having a chicken for supper, one of them is sick."

"Who got sick?"

"Miss Maribell, I'm afraid we're going to have chicken for a few more days, half the flock is looking poorly. Like they've been left out in the cold or something."

Molly wiped her hands on the damp towel she always seemed to carry and walked toward the house.

Ginny looked sad, "Miss Maribell was gentle, and a good layer, gave us a dozen eggs a week."

From the house came an altogether too familiar roar.

_"Ronald Bilius Weasley!"_

Ginny grinned as Ron asked, "Blimey, what now?"

After a few minutes, Ginny said, "Let's go."

The trio went to the kitchen door, and saw Ron's Wellingtons, covered in mud, and muddy footprints tracking through the kitchen and up to his room, then down again.

Mrs Weasley was making him clean up the mess the muggle way, with broom and mop and bucket.

"But I didn't, Mum, I swear!"

Harry asked, "Didn't what, Ronald? Didn't climb up Stoatshead Hill, didn't push the cart full of newspapers down the steep slope and almost into the stream?"

Ashen faced, Ron asked, "How did you know?"

Luna said, "We didn't, not for sure, 'til just now."

Molly was beyond anger. In a voice that was more scary than anything heard before because of its _lack_ of volume she said, "Go to your room, Ronald. Stay there until your father gets home."

With tears in her eyes, she looked at Luna, "I don't know what to say, Dear. I don't know what to do. How could any son of ours be so mean spirited?"

Lunch was taken in silence.

"The livestock is well tended, Dears. Why don't you try to have a little fun this afternoon?" a bit of twinkle came into her eye, "If you promise not to get caught you can borrow some brooms from the broomshed."

The three children beamed, "Really?"

"Really, really. Now go! Fly, have some fun."

They didn't have to be told twice.

In his room, Ron couldn't believe his bad luck. How could he have been trapped so easily? It couldn't get worse.

"Woo - who!"

He looked outside to see Harry and Looney and Ginny flying on the family broomsticks.

It was worse.

)O(

By the time Arthur came home, some normalcy had been restored. Harry and the girls were stirring pots making something that Harry called La-zahn-yah. Whatever it was, it smelled wonderful.

He sighed as he put the Daily Prophet on the kitchen table. The headline read,

BOY WHO LIVED NO MORE?

By Matthew Smythe

According to sources in the Muggle Press, Harry James Potter, 10 who had lived in Little Whinging, Surrey, was declared missing, feared dead. His own muggle relatives are being held in an undisclosed location, on charges of abuse and neglect. The hero of the Wizarding World has, apparently, for the past nine years, been the victim of abuse at the hands of Lily Potters sister, Petunia Dursley and her Husband, Vernon Dursley… Continued on page 2.

Ginny saw the headline, dropped the stirring spoon and ran to her room.

Luna followed.

Ginny was sprawled on her bed, sobbing.

"It doesn't say he's dead, Ginny."

"Buh, but wha, what if he, he is… Dead?"

"Then we'll have to be brave, like he was; and go on living, just like he'd want us to."

)O(

Harry felt like he was in a story he'd read, two years before, _Tom Sawyer_, by Mark Twain. In it, the boy, Tom, was thought to be dead, and he went to his own funeral. As Harry sat around the Weasley dinner table, hearing about how brave and strong he must have been as a small child, and how could those muggles have been so cruel.

That's when he realized.

No one knew Harry Potter.

No one.

The one who came closest was sitting to his right, holding his hand, comforting him.

The rest of the Weasley stay was subdued, to say the least, Ron kept his distance, only talking when asked a direct question, going back to his room when he finished his chores. It was a self-imposed exile, but no one complained. Sometimes a boy has to be left alone, to sit and think.

)O(

When Xeno emerged from his own fireplace floo connection it was to a cheerful, "Welcome home, Daddy! Welcome back, Xeno!"

Harry had baked a cake, Xeno's favourite Chocolate with raspberry filling, and the three had fun catching up.

"You did an _accio_ on two bundles of paper and a cart?"

"You fought a medicine man for the chance to see a demiguese-sloth?"

Harry smirked, "Who won?"

"He did," Xeno said and winked, "I got killed, of course."

Saying this, the world-traveling cryptozoologist pulled a leather bag from under his chair.

He reached in and pulled out his hand, well, they assumed it was his hand, because his hand disappeared at the wrist.

"This is a bag of the finest demiguese fur in the world, nothing, not even old Mad-eye moody's eye can penetrate it."

"What are you going to do with it, Daddy?"

"I'm going to borrow Molly Weasley's spinning wheel and charmed knitting needles and have this wool woven into the finest invisibility cloak since the Peverell brothers."

Harry looked confused, "Will there be enough for that?"

Luna laughed, "Harry, it's a bottomless bag, I'll wager Daddy has enough wool for two cloaks."

Xeno sighed, then shook his head, "No, not two." Then he smiled and held up three fingers.

"Three? You're joking, three!"

)O(

Winter gave way, grudgingly to spring. Harry celebrated his first Vernal Equinox, very important in the farming community that was Ottery Saint Catchpole. He finally got the reason why there were eggs and bunnies and the like. A festival of fertility and re-birth, he loved the irony in that the holiest of days in the Christian calendar was a thinly veiled Pagan Celebration. Even the date was from the Lunar Calendar, the first Sunday after the first full moon following the vernal equinox.

May first brought Beltane.

"An odd celebration," Harry thought, "but cool."

The bonfire was fun, and all the young couples seemed to be enjoying themselves, but it was all too mysterious to a pair of children just ten years old.

"Let me guess," Luna asked, irritated, "I'll understand it better when I'm older?"

Xeno smiled, kissed her forehead and said, "That's my little genius."

June brought the Sabbat of Litha, four couples from the village, who had been especially close during Beltane, chose that day to be married - the kindly vicar accommodated them all.

June also brought Harry's Hogwarts letter.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore  
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,  
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Evans,  
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.  
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall  
Deputy Headmistress

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

UNIFORM  
First-year students will require:  
sets of plain work robes (black)  
plain pointed hat (black) for day wear  
pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)  
winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)  
Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.

COURSE BOOKS  
All students should have a copy of each of the following:  
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)  
by Miranda Goshawk  
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot  
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling  
A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch  
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi  
by Phyllida Spore  
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger  
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them  
by Newt Scamander  
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection  
by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT  
1 wand  
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)  
1 set glass or crystal phials  
1 telescope  
1 set brass scales  
Students may also bring and owl OR a cat OR a toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

Xeno read over the letter, almost exactly the same form-letter he'd received twenty-one years before. He looked fondly at his charge and said, "There's nothing for it, son, we're going to have to endure a day of shopping."

Harry groaned while Luna bounced on her heels and applauded.

"We have to gird our loins, prepare as best we can, fortify…"

Harry grinned, "Eat Chinese?"

"Exactly!"

Their favorite Chinese restaurant, the Wok n' Roll, was one block down from the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, and Xeno would eat there at the drop of a hat.

Xeno, Luna and Harry emerged from the floo without incident.

"That's the secret, lad, just keep your knees slightly bent, anticipate the side-to-side slide motion and you're good."

Just before leaving the cauldron, they removed their outer robes so that they wouldn't stand out too much in muggle London.

As they left the dark pub, they were all temporarily blinded by bright sunshine and quite literally walked into three people who were standing just outside the entrance.

"Sorry!"

"Beg pardon!"

"Sorry!"

They had quite literally 'run into' a family of three, husband and wife and young daughter.

Xeno asked, "Excuse me for asking, but do you need help? You look a bit lost."

The girl, about Harry's age from the look of her, with an amazingly full head of brown, kinky hair said, "I can see the entrance, but Mum and Dad can't seem to."

Xeno understood, "Going to Hogwarts this year, sweetheart?"

"Yes! Are you, um," the girl lowered her voice to a barely audible whisper, "witches?"

Xeno decided to go with that for now, he'd correct them later, "Yes, we are, Harry here will be starting this year, and Luna next."

The young father held out his hand and introduced himself, "Granger, Fredrick Granger. And this is my wife, the beautiful Helen, and our daughter Hermione."

"I'm Xenophilius Lovegood, this is my daughter, Luna and our very good friend, Harold."

Harry took Mr Granger's hand, "Harold Evans, but please, call me Harry."

Helen offered her hand, which Harry took, "I see you love the classics too, Helen of Troy had a daughter Hermione."

Hermione practically squealed, "You've read Homer?"

"Well, not in the original Greek…"

The Grangers both laughed, "You are the first person _ever_ to make the connection between their names. Good on you, lad!"

Xeno interrupted, "We have to do our school shopping too, have you already eaten?"

"No…"

"Well, I hope you like Chinese, then, my treat, I insist!"

The six were instant friends, and enjoyed their lunch family style, where everyone ordered something different and shared with everyone else.

During lunch, Xeno explained some of the positive points of having a witch in the family, how magicals tended to be healthier and live longer than non-magicals, and the ease of travel and transportation, which the adult Grangers would be able to take advantage of once Hermione was of age.

He was candid about the less savory aspects of the Wizarding world.

"I'm a newspaper publisher, and I have to deal with people in every walk of life, and you have to know that there is an artificial caste system here in Magical Britain. Blood is everything. If anyone asks for your blood 'status,' simply tell them that you've been pure for nine generations. What you mean is that you're pure muggle, but they don't have to know that. It really doesn't matter a tinker's dam what your actual 'blood' is, magical ability is the first, most important thing. But perception is everything.

Take Harry here, if I were to introduce him as the Crown Prince, Heir to the Throne of Magical Guyana, British "pureblood" witches and wizards would fall all over themselves trying to get into his good graces. The fact that there is no Royal Family of Guyana won't even enter into it. Perception is everything to these idiots."

Hermione caught on quickly, "I could be Prince Harry's royal, what?"

Xeno thought, "Well, if you were older, you could be his Royal Consort, that's like…"

"Oh, I know, like Victoria and Albert, only the other way around."

Luna smiled, "And Harry would be addressed as 'Your Highness,' and you would be addressed as 'Your Grace'."

Hermione smiled, raised her chin and looked down her nose at everyone, "I like it! You may kowtow if you wish."

Harry laughed, "I love it. I was going to go for the Duke of Bilgewater, myself, but it seems I've been elevated."

Hermione smiled broadly, "Homer _and_ Clemens, you _are_ well read. I am impressed my liege."

Just then the food arrived.

"Try the lo mein, it's excellent!"

"More tea?"

Properly fortified, they made their way into the alley.

Luna gave the Grangers a quick primer on goblin customs, so that when the 'entourage' entered Gringotts they were treated with deference and afforded sterling service.

The school-bound children made the complete rounds without incidence, until Madame Malkins.

Harry, Hermione and Luna had gone ahead to be fitted for school robes.

As they entered the tailors, there was one customer being fitted, a girl with a dark pageboy and an unfortunately pug nose.

Madame Malkin was pinning the girl's robe and called over her shoulder, "Hogwarts, dears?"

"Yes, Madame."

"And who are you supposed to be?" the girl being fitted asked.

Luna stepped up, "Allow me, my liege."

She stood tall and said, "You are addressing His Highness, Harold, Crown Prince and Heir to the Throne of Guyana, and his Royal Consort, Her Grace, the Lady Hermione. And whom did you say _you_ were?"

The girl paled, "Sus, sorry, My Grace, I mean, Your Grace, I mean…"

She tried to curtsey, but pins along her seams made the effort painful.

Harry, barely able to control his mirth, saw that Madame Malkin was busy and said, "We shall return later, Madame."

"It will be my honor, Your Highness."

Pansy Parkinson wanted to cry.

Once they were well away from the tailor shop, Harry hugged Luna to one side and Hermione to the other as they laughed.

"Oh, Luna, I will have to name you High Chamberlain, Grand Vizier and Major Domo!"

Hermione snickered, "Magical Guyana has a _woman_ in such a high office?"

Luna laughed, "Magical Guyana is very forward-thinking. Oh, look, Eeylops!"

The three children ran into Eeylops Owl Emporium and were nearly overcome by the selection there.

Up one aisle and down the next, owls of every description.

Harry spotted a snowy owl in a cage that seemed too small.

"Hey, aren't you pretty?"

The owl looked with baleful eyes.

Harry looked around and saw very few of the owls were in cages and wondered why this one was.

"Do you want out?"

With a whistle and a "Prek, prek!" the owl nodded.

Carefully, not making any sudden moves, Harry undid the latch, allowing the cage to clam-shell open.

The owl spread its wings, barked twice and flew to the rafters.

"Hey, boy! Why'd you let her out? Took me all day just to get her in there!"

"She was uncomfortable, cooped up in that tiny cage."

"Easy for you to say, you don't have to manage two hundred birds every day."

"One-hundred, ninety-nine."

"What?"

"I'll take her, that way it's one less bird for you to bother with."

The old proprietor shook his head, "And how do you figure I can get her down from the rafters?"

"Can't you just call her?"

"Her? She'd just as soon take me nose off for a button. Tell you what, you call her down and you can have her for nine galleons, that's cost, that is."

"Throw in a perch and you've got a deal."

"Done!"

He turned around and spotted the snowy owl in a far rafter looking down at him.

"Come on, girl, don't you want to go home with me?"

The shop keeper sniggered, "I'll catch her for you if I have to, but it'll be twenty galleons for hazardous duty."

Harry looked up again, "Hey, sweetheart, don't you want to piss off this old duffer?"

With a whistle and a "Prek, prek, prek!" the owl flew down to Harry's outstretched arm.

"That's my good girl!"

The bird moved up Harry's arm to stand on his shoulder.

"You'll be wantin' a cage."

"Nope, no cage, never a cage for my pretty girl."

"Suit yerself, but when matin' season comes around, you're gonna need another owl."

Harry saw an assortment of owl treats and bought one of each, then read the post-owl contract.

"Amazing, she'll always know where I am, can fly though 'apparation space' what is that?"

"When you turn seventeen, you can apply for your apparation license. It is a way to travel by magically disappearing in one place and appearing in another. Apparation, see?"

"Um, yeah, I guess."

"Nine galleons for the harridan and two sickles for the treats."

)O(

Stepping out of the Owl Emporium, Harry came upon a small, pudgy boy, crying on the footpath.

"Hey, you okay?"

The boy lifted his eyes to Harry's and shook his head, "No, I lost it. I lost it and Nan's gonna kill me. It, it was my dad's…"

"What was it?"

"My dad's wand."

Harry thought for a moment, then said, "Uncle Ollie says you need your own wand, you can use someone else's, but it won't work. Believe me, I know. I tried to use wands that weren't mine and my magic was all wonky."

Without realizing it, Harry had led his new friend to Ollivander's, "I'm Harold, Harold Evans, but please, call me Harry."

"Neville Longbottom."

"We'll get you fixed up."

Neville whispered, "I haven't any money, Nan keeps it for me."

"Uncle Ollie?"

Ollivander slid into view on his rolling ladder, "Yes, Harry?"

"Can my friend, Neville, get a wand on account?"

"Account?" the old wand-maker asked.

"Yeah, on account a he's got no money!"

Ollivander looked hard at Neville, "Ah, Mister Longbottom. I wondered when I'd be seeing you here. Seems like yesterday your mother and father were in here getting their wands."

In a small, embarrassed voice, Neville said, "I lost my dad's wand."

"Eleven inches, Sessile Oak, very flexible, with a dragon's heart string."

"You've seen it?" Neville asked, hopefully.

"Of course, I was the one who sold it to your father, oh, before you were born."

Crestfallen, "How am I going to explain this to Nan, you know, my grandmother?"

"Indeed I do. Ten inches, teak with a unicorn hair core, very, very rigid."

"Oh, you _do_ know my Nan."

Ollivander thought for a moment, then scrambled down the ladder and pulled a box full of old, worn out wands.

"Do you see on that is close in appearance to your father's?"

Neville rooted around the box and pulled one out, "This one, sir. This one is close."

Ollivander nodded, placed the wand on the countertop and incanted, "_Adura talea!"_

The wand spit yellow, then red flames from both ends, charring and blackening the handle and shaft.

"I'm sorry to say, Mister Longbottom, that your father's wand has suffered damage from having too much magic forced through it by a potentially powerful wizard for whom it was not properly matched. Remember, the wand chooses the wizard."

"I can offer you a replacement wand at half price…"

Neville was about to object that he really didn't have any money, when Ollivander raised his hands and said, "Which you can pay me the next time you see me. Fair enough?"

"More than fair, sir."

Harry left Neville in "Uncle Ollie's" capable hands.

)O(

He knew he'd find the girls in Flourish and Blotts, walking in with the snowy owl on his shoulder made him an instant celebrity.

"Oh, what a beautiful owl, what's his name?"

"I was thinking of calling her Hedy."

"Preck, eck!"

"Oh, you don't like that?"

The owl stared.

Luna asked, "How about Hedwig? It's more formal than Hedy."

The owl bobbed her head twice.

"I'll take that as a yes. Hedwig it is, then."

Hermione smiled, "Hail Hedwig, Beloved Herald to Harold, Crown Prince, Heir to the throne of Guyana."

Both girls curtseyed, which Hedwig accepted as her due.

Other patrons in the store heard the exchange and added fuel to the rumors that Diagon Alley was being visited by royals.

"The Prince has a herald who's an owl animagus!"

"He's all of ten years old an he's already got a consort!"

"Damn ferriners!"

All told it was a full day of shopping and bonding.

Hermione had made two good friends in Harry and Luna, and the Grangers had their first magical friends as well.

With promises to visit and exchange mail over the summer, the two families made their way home.

)O(

Huge thanks, as always, to my brilliant Brit Picker, Tommy King, for reminding me that certain words just don't roll off a proper British tongue, and that, while I had a little red wagon, my Brit cousins had carts.

Hogwarts coming up. Now, unless Dumbledore is dumb as a door, he should suss out Harry's secret identity, right? No simple makeover is going to fool the Headmaster.

Then again, Albus has a lot on his mind. He's lost his positions on the Wizengamot, and the ICW. The goblins are also intentionally keeping him off balance.

Add to that, the last time Dumbles saw Harry, he was a timid, growth stunted ten year old. Now he's taller, much more confident in his abilities. He has friends, both magical and muggle, is outgoing, gregarious. For the record, that's called social camouflage.

Oh, and remember the chameleon cuff, the one he always wears on his arm? Not only does it mask his magical signature, it hides his mind from even the most skilled legilimens.

That will be significant shortly.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

June found the Burrow raucous and full of life again. Ron had apologized and his behaviour was forgiven, if not forgotten. At least Harry would know someone in the same year when he started Wizard School in September. Luna still visited Ginny every chance she got. They both wrote to Hermione every other day.

Percy was worried about his Ordinary Wizarding Level exams and whether or not he'd be the fifth-year prefect. Oliver Wood was in the running for prefect as well as Quidditch Captain. All Perce could do was wait, and begin revising for his O W L exams. He spent quite a lot of time in his room locked away with his pet rat, Scabbers.

Whenever Luna would visit, she would try to spend a few minutes with the rat. Mostly she was curious about the enchantments that made him virtually glow with nargelites. Even Hedwig, the amazing owl didn't have as many golden motes orbiting her.

"I think someone put a longevity charm on Scabbers," she confided in Harry one day, "most rats only live two to three years, but he, poor dear, has been in the family for nine years."

Harry was confused, "Wouldn't that make him lucky?"

Luna shook her head, "No, that would be like you or me living to be about three-hundred years old. No one should have to live that long."

Harry shrugged, "He seems healthy enough."

"Maybe we can use the revelation charm, "_ostendo sum_," and figure out what his enchantment is?"

"Do you think Percy would mind?"

"Not if we bring his pet some food."

"Okay, we'll try it this weekend."

As it happened, though, it was a few more weeks before anyone gave Scabbers another thought.

)O(

That Friday Percy received a bulky envelope from Hogwarts and the villagers in Ottery Saint Catchpole could probably hear the most composed, virtually unflappable, ginger of the bunch, shrieking for joy.

"Prefect! Mum! McGonagall's made me _Prefect!"_

Molly Weasley was so proud of her son, all her sons really. Bill had been Head Boy and prefect. Charlie, another prefect, also captained the Gryffindor Quidditch team. And now Percy, her oldest still living at home had been singled out for that honor and responsibility.

"Well, this calls for a celebration. What would you like, dear?"

"Could I have an owl?"

"We'll have a proper party, too. I'll bet Bill will come, and Charlie too if I ask them. And the Lovegoods with little Harry."

Plans were made, owls sent out. Poor Errol was exhausted by the end of the following day, so Harry volunteered Hedwig to take the pressure off the old bird.

Charlie wanted to come and spend a few days with his family, but couldn't possibly get away 'til the first week in August. Bill was in Egypt, but could get away for a weekend the second week in August.

In the end, they decided to have a combined Percy, the newest prefect, and Ginny Weasley birthday party. When Xeno mentioned that Harry's birthday was in August too, he became part of the celebration.

This came as a relief to Xeno, who knew the Weasleys were a poor but proud clan. However, they couldn't possibly object to the Lovegood's help putting on a party that was also for the boy he had taken into his home and family.

After much wrangling, Molly agreed to let Xeno buy all the food, provided she do all the cooking. Harry was keen to help as well, and wanted to bake Ginny's cake. Ginny, of course, had to reciprocate. Happily, the Weasley's kitchen was spacious enough to accommodate all three 'chefs.'

Families and friends were all gathered in the kitchen, even though there was more room in the parlour, in the way that people always seem to congregate wherever food is being prepared, when the two oldest Weasley sons arrived by Floo. Bill first, followed closely by Charlie.

Bill, "Not William," Weasley was the tallest of the clan, so far. The twins and Ron seemed to be hurrying to catch up in that department. Smartly dressed in a muggle suit, he wore his hair long, tied back in a manner Harry had noticed among pureblood heads of families. Easygoing, handsome and obviously fit, Bill could have stepped off the cover of GQ. Molly Weasley fussed and offered to give him a right proper trim. Ginny adored her 'biggest' brother and shrieked when she saw the dragon fang earring in his left ear.

Charlie was exactly the opposite of his brother, Bill. Short and solidly built, he kept his hair close-cropped, and wore practical, durable clothing that a man could easily move in. His left forearm bore a long, thin burn scar that the apprentice dragon handler seemed inordinately proud of.

And so it was, when the second Friday in August rolled around, the Burrow was bedecked in flowers and streamers and balloons (Harry's idea), and the long kitchen table was moved out onto the lawn. Said table was actually groaning from the amount of food it had to bear.

That was okay, though.

At each end of the table was a cake, a carrot cake with cream cheese icing on one end, and a chocolate cake with white whipped egg white icing on the other. The carrot cake had ten candles and the chocolate cake had eleven.

"Make a wish!"

"Blow out the candles!"

Applause, applause!

In all, for both Harry and Ginny, it was the best birthday _ever._

Arthur stood and tapped his wineglass with a fork, "Quiet down now, quiet down. Weasleys and friends, we also want to recognize my Percy, who continues the trend, set down by his older, equally illustrious brothers," applause, applause, "by earning the highly desirable position of Gryffindor House Prefect!"

More applause.

"And as a token of our esteem, may I present," pause for dramatic effect, "Hermes!"

Saying that, a barn owl flew down to land on the table in front of Percy.

The newly minted prefect, at a rare loss for words, simply said, "Thanks, Dad. Thanks, everyone." Then wiped away a tear of gratitude.

He turned to his youngest brother, pulled a grey, furry lump out of his pocket, and said, "Ron, when Charlie made prefect four years ago, he passed his familiar on to me, and now, I want you to take him, okay?"

Ron nodded, and through a mouthful of cake, muttered, "Fanks," while accepting the sleeping rat with both hands.

He set Scabbers down on the bench next to him and gave him a small piece of cake, which brought the rat out of his stupor. The rodent began to eat with the same gusto as his new master.

Harry looked sideways at Luna and whispered, "A boy and his rat…"

Luna chuckled, "They have the same table manners!"

After the birthdays / prefect celebratory lunch, the Weasleys and Lovegoods spread out blankets in the shade of a large oak tree and reminisced.

The subject of Scabbers came up.

Bill said, "It was Dad who brought Scabbers home in the first place."

"Yeah, funny thing, he was in my office, standing up on his hind legs in my chair. He didn't run off or anything, so I knew he was a tame rat, maybe someone's familiar at the ministry. So I set up a box for him to sleep in, and kept him fed and watered while I asked around. When it became clear that he didn't belong to anyone at work, I brought him home and gave him to Charlie."

Charlie picked up the story, "I had him for four years, then when I made prefect, I got my owl and passed him on to Percy."

Scabbers, belly so full of food that he was bloated, snoozed by Ron's side.

Luna asked, "Dad, how long do rats normally live?"

"Two or three years. Matter of fact, a three year old rat is like a one-hundred ten year-old muggle."

"Blimey, he's like three times that!"

Luna turned to Ron and asked, "Would you mind if we did a little revealing spell on Scabbers? I think he might have an enchantment that keeps him going after all these years."

"It won't hurt him, will it?"

"No, it just shows the nature of any enchantments. Can we?"

Bill, who knew a few revealing charms of his own offered one, "How about _ostendo mihi?"_

Luna nodded, "That would work for the caster, I was thinking of _ostendo sum, _which projects an image of the enchantment."

The curse-breaker's apprentice was impressed, "That's fairly advanced, I didn't get that one until third year. Do you want to try it or shall I?"

Xeno surreptitiously pointed to Bill. Both Luna and Harry understood, it wouldn't do for everyone to know they were already proficient with wand work.

"Oh, I wasn't going to try to cast a spell, I was hoping one of you would."

"Allow me, then." Bill said, and waved his wand over Scabbers, "_Ostendo sum!"_

Silver-grey mist seemed to flow from the rat, growing and coalescing into the form of a short, fat, sleeping man.

"What the…"

Bill's voice became a hoarse whisper, "Ron, very slowly, roll away from the rat. Do it now!"

Charlie had his wand drawn now, as did all the adults present, "What you recon it is, Bill?"

"First guess? I'd say he's an animagus."

"Anyone recognize him."

Molly's trembling voice whispered, "That's Peter, Peter Pettigrew!"

"But he's dead, he died a hero!"

Arthur looked grave, "Molly, sweetheart, an animagus, a _man_ has been living under our roof, sleeping in the same room with our children. This is one for the DMLE."

Without another word Arthur Weasley stunned the man who, up to that moment, had been considered a hero in the Wizarding World.

Albus Dumbledore's problems were compounded as yet another scandal chipped away at his authority and reputation. All roads seemed to lead back to him. It was Dumbledore who had left the Boy Who Lived with his murderous relatives, after all. And Dumbledore had been Chief Warlock when Sirius Black was cast into prison without a proper investigation or a trial.

For Goddess' sake, Bellatrix Lestrange had at least been given the courtesy of a trial!

)O(

The next few days were a media circus, the headlines practically screamed,

**Peter Pettigrew, Order of Merlin First Class, Posthumous, Found Alive!**

**Irregularities in Pettigrew's testimony necessitate veritaserum!**

**Pettigrew, Death Eater!**

**Sirius Black, Framed! Unjustly Convicted, Imprisoned!**

**Sirius Black Freed! Vows to fight for judicial reform!**

**Judicial overhaul in the wake of Pettigrew fiasco!**

**Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot suspended for grievous miscarriage of justice!**

**Dumbledore Loses Seat on ICW Following No-Confidence Vote!**

**Pettigrew Sentenced to Life, will occupy Black's old cell in Azkaban.**

)O(

Harry and Luna wrote to Hermione Granger every other day, and managed to wangle a Floo connection to the Granger home for the remaining weeks of summer break.

When Hermione discovered she could do magic, with her wand, _before_ school began she was thrilled.

The trio planned to be familiar with all their first year spells before first year began.

If only Luna could start this year.

Together with Xeno, they researched a solution.

Hogwarts bylaws allow for advanced placement, given certain conditions.

If Luna could complete all the class assignments at the same time Harry and Hermione did, and, at the end of the term, could submit her completed work and take the tests necessary to qualify her for second term she could be placed with Harry and Hermione.

If everything went according to plan, Luna would be a Hogwarts student by January.

The two rising first-years, and one hopeful, managed to coerce Xeno into one last shopping trip to Diagon Alley before the start of term. The Grangers agreed to a sleepover so the eager students could get to the Alley as soon as possible.

Fredrick and Helen Granger were thrilled that Hermione had made such fast friends, she had never been invited to sleep over at any classmate's house before. She'd never had friends before.

Luna and Harry were eager to tell Hermione about all the excitement over the summer, and the trio wrote out and revised their shopping lists half a dozen times before sleep finally won out.

Helen looked in on the kids because, as a parent, she knew quiet meant that, one, the children were getting into some kind of trouble or, two, they were asleep. Seeing the three all curled up like kittens in pyjamas was a 'family album' worthy memory.

She fetched her camera, took several pictures, sans flash, then, with a satisfied smile, joined her husband in bed.

Next day, as promised, they took the floo to the Leaky Cauldron, then attacked their shopping list with a vengeance.

First stop, Slug and Jiggers, Apothecary.

Luna smiled on the way in, "Oh good, it's Mister Jiggers today!"

"Luna! What have you brought us today?"

The door opened, and Jiggers looked up to greet his customer, "Good morning, Professor. Be with you in a minute, got your crates ready to go."

The tall, dark man nodded and waited patiently to one side.

"We brought extract of Athelas today, harvested the seeds at the Summer Solstice, and if you'll remember, there was a full moon this year."

Mister Jiggers whistled, "Oh my, this is amazing, look, Professor, look at the _clarity!"_

A tall man, dressed all in black, moved with absolute economy of motion, and spoke in low, melodious tones, "This is a first pressing, extra virgin."

Luna smiled, "I think it's better than last year's."

"Indeed," the man said, "family business?"

"No, sir, my Dad, and Harry and I enjoy potions. We find the best ingredients are often the ones we can harvest fresh for ourselves."

Mister Jiggers added, "I'd say the Lovegoods produce a good fifty to sixty percent of all their own reagents, always first quality. Xeno and his late wife, bless her, used to sell half of what they harvested to my dad."

"Do you mean I might actually have _first year_ students who know one end of a scale from another?"

Harry brightened, "Do you teach Potions, Professor?"

The professor turned to face the boy who had spoken and nearly stumbled in shock.

That hair, exactly the _her_ color, those eyes, exactly _her_ eyes.

"Sir?"

"Snape, Professor Snape once you begin classes, and yes, I am _the_ Hogwarts Potions Professor. I'm here this morning to pick up supplies for the first term. And you are?"

Harry held out his hand, "Harold Evans, sir, pleased to meet you!"

Severus took the hand, good firm grip for a first year, "Evans. Are you, by any chance, related to Lily Evans?"

"My cousin, sir."

At that point, Severus Snape wasn't sure what the gods were playing at, but he knew he was going to be watching this young man very closely. Another magical Evans, another potions prodigy.

"These are my friends, Luna Lovegood and Hermione Granger, also a first year this year."

"I look forward to seeing you all in class." Turning to Jiggers he asked, "Send the crates on to Hogwarts, won't you? I know your reagents will be the best available, as always."

He nodded, to Jiggers, then to the children who half-bowed or curtseyed in return, and seemed to flow out of the shop, black cloak billowing like great bat's wings.

"Blimey," Jiggers said, "He was downright _cordial_, he almost smiled, he _never_ almost smiles, not in the ten years that I've known him."

Hermione shrugged, "He seemed nice enough to me."

The trio left the apothecary with the reagents they'd need for the coming term, not everything could be home-grown, and were accosted by a breathless Pansy Parkinson, who practically fell over in her rush to offer a courteous curtsey. She was dragging two large boys with her."

"Your Highness, Your Grace. I fear I gave you a bad first impression when we met in the tailor's shop."

Luna assumed her High Chamberlain persona, "Think not upon it, Miss?"

"Parkinson, ma'am, Pansy Parkinson, of the East Riding Parkinsons. And these are my cousins, Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe." With an aside to her unfortunate kin she hissed, "Bow you morons!"

Woodenly, the two boys bowed.

"They don't talk much, Your Highness, Your Grace."

Harry waved as if batting a gnat, "Still waters and all that. I'm sure they represent your family well."

Luna stepped up, "Highness, with your permission?"

Harry gave Luna the Royal go-ahead.

"Miss Parkinson, Misters Crabbe and Goyle. His Highness, Prince Harold will be attending Hogwarts this autumn, it is the King's wish that his heir's school experiences be as, _unremarkable_ as possible."

Pansy looked confused, Greg and Vincent may have too, it was hard to tell. The East Riding Pug asked, "Ma'am? I don't think I understand."

"Just yesterday, word came to us from the Court of Guyana that Prince Harold's matriculation should be as a normal wizard's."

Three blank stares.

"The Prince will be incognito. Once we set foot in Hogwarts Hallowed Halls, he will cease to be Prince Harold, and will simply be known as Harry Evans, understand?"

Luna, Harry and Hermione smiled as the concept sunk in. "So you don't want people to know you're…"

Harry smiled benignly, "Exactly, can we trust you to be circumspect?"

"I offer my oath, Your Highness."

"It is enough for us that you would make that offer, Miss Parkinson. We are in your debt."

You could practically see the girls head swell with pride.

"And we would be pleased if you would simply refer to us as Harry, Hermione and Luna."

"Of course, Your, I mean, _Harry."_

Pansy, very pleased with herself, strutted off with Crabbe and Goyle in tow. Harry, Hermione and Luna went the other direction.

Once the trio rounded the corner they fell over each other laughing hysterically.

Hermione had to wipe tears of mirth from her eyes, "Oh, Luna, High Chamberlain, Grand Vizier and Major Domo, you are _brilliant!"_

Luna smirked, "If you want a secret to become general knowledge, just tell a Parkinson."

Harry chuckled, "So everyone will know who we are, but no one will admit it, oh that _is_ brilliant!"

)O(

Harry, the Lovegoods and the Grangers met for breakfast at the Acorn on Swinton Lane, near Kings Cross, giving themselves plenty of time to reach Platform Nine and three-quarters. Xeno and Luna escorted Fredrick and Helen, Harry offered his arm to Hermione and said, "Your Grace?"

"Your Highness."

"Wow!"

Fredrick Granger, a train enthusiast from his youth, his voice filled with awe, said, "A Great Western Railway 'Hall' Class four-six-oh!" He looked puzzled, "But how can this beauty get from London to anywhere in Scotland without refueling?"

Xeno smiled and answered, "Magic."

Luna gave Harry a nice long, "I'm going to miss you!" hug, and then pulled Hermione into an equally bitter-sweet embrace.

"Remember, copies of all your lesson notes every other day."

Xeno smiled and gave Harry, Luna and Hermione small, oblong boxes, "Go ahead and open them."

Inside each box was a self inking quill with a golden nib.

"Thank you, Xeno, these are beautiful."

With an enigmatic smile, Xeno said, "Remember to write."

The Grangers said their farewells as well and Harry and Hermione found an empty compartment near the back of the train, as Xeno had told them that it was traditional for upper years to ride closer to the front.

Ron came on board and asked, "Do you mind if I sit here?"

"Not at all. It's nice that we'll know someone at school."

A small, pudgy boy was passing their compartment when a large, brown toad launched itself from his pocket to land, wetly, on the seat next to Ron.

"Ungh, who keeps a toad for a familiar anymore?"

A voice called from somewhere down the passageway, "Trevor,Trevor? Has anyone seen my toad?"

Hermione went to the door and called out, "In here!"

The boy was so relieved to retrieve his errant amphibian he practically gushed his thanks, then, recognizing his benefactor from Diagon Alley he cried, "Harry!"

Harry gestured to the spot next to Ron, "Have a seat, Neville. May as well get comfortable. Everyone, this is Neville."

"Hermione Granger."

Ron half-waved, "We've met."

"Hey, Ron. Harry, my new wand is _brilliant_. You wouldn't believe the things I can do now."

Harry smiled and, in his best Ollivander voice, intoned, "Remember, the wand chooses the wizard!"

The train was remarkably smooth and quiet for a steam-driven relic. In no time the four first years had exhausted their stores of small-talk and took to reading.

Some of the older students, apparently bored, walked the corridors to check out the "firsties," or to visit younger brothers or sisters.

The Weasley twins stuck their heads in the compartment and asked, "All right there, Ronniekins, ready for the troll?"

Ron and Neville blanched, "Tuh, troll?"

"It's how Hogwarts sorts us into Houses. You got to wrestle a troll. Not to worry though, it's just a little troll, maybe six feet and fifteen stone."

"Yeah, just a baby, that."

Hermione smirked, "Enough, you two. Ron, Neville, all they do it stick a hat on your head and it tells you what House you are best suited for."

The twins looked appalled, "That's a closely guarded secret, that is! Who told?"

Harry held up Hermione's copy of _Hogwart's, A History_.

"It's in the book."

"You two may be the only ones on this train who've actually read that."

Later, a thin, blond haired boy with pinched features and an air of self-importance looked in, but before he could spout whatever was on his alleged mind, both Crabbe and Goyle recognized "Prince Harold" and his Consort, and all but carried their companion back to their own compartment.

As they retreated down the passageway, the boys diminishing voice groused, "Crabbe, Goyle, are you crazy? Let go, let go of me I say!"

Harry and Hermione looked at Ron, who shrugged, "A Malfoy, my dad sees his dad at the ministry sometimes. Not nice people."

Neville shook his head, "No, last time I saw Draco, he called me a useless squib. Bunch of blood-purists."

Hermione remembered Xeno Lovegoods warning, "Well I know my blood is pure, and so is Harry's, but that doesn't matter. What matters is the magic, and how well you can use it."

)O(

"Firs' years, this way! Firs' years!"

Harry looked up at the biggest human being he'd ever seen.

"No more'n four to a boat!"

Passing under an arch the giant bellowed, "Watch yer heads, now!"

The castle, with stained glass windows like those of a cathedral reflected on the black waters of the Scottish lake. If it were possible to fall in love with a place at first sight, then they did.

Stepping out of the boat Harry heard the giant say, "Firs' years, all accounted for Professor McGonagall."

"Thank you, Hagrid. You may go in now, enjoy the feast."

"Thank ye, ma'am."

Professor Minerva McGonagall introduced herself and briefly described the Houses. Harry and Hermione had spent hours with Luna discussing the various Houses and the pros and cons of each. Each had their good points, and their detractors as well. Gryffindors tend to be brave but brash and impetuous. Ravenclaws were said to be intelligent, but stand-offish, and meticulous to the point of anal-retentiveness. Slytherins tend to be clever and ambitious, however, they were also insular, not working well with others. Hufflepuffs, by reputation, are hard working and loyal to a fault, but, according to Xeno, looked down on by the rest of the Houses, making it hard for a "Puff" to emerge as any kind of leader outside of the House of Badgers.

Too bad Hogwarts doesn't have one House that had encompasses the best qualities of the other four Houses.

Or does it?

)O(

Let's just speculate, this week, on that last line.

*E-vile grin*

Some of the "What ifs" in this story include, "What if there wasn't a Harry _Potter_ for Snape to single out?" and "What if Harry reminded Severus, not of his hated rival, James Potter, but rather his first and only best friend, Lily Evans?" Might change his whole outlook on life. Who knows, with Luna's intervention, he might even discover shampoo…

Again, many thanks to Tommy King, who corrects my grammar and (British) spelling to provide this story with its authentic British flavour. Good on you, mate!


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

A fifth House.

Professor McGonagall called the next name on the list, "Evans, Harold."

As soon as the hat landed on her head it started to call out "Ray…" But then it stopped. The dialogue continued inside Harry's mind.

"Not Ravenclaw? Clearly that's your House, but I see you need to be placed with a Miss Granger, that shows a great deal of loyalty. Plenty of courage, I see, and a thirst to prove yourself. But you're hiding something, and hiding it from me is no mean feat, very Slytherin."

Harry thought, "Do we have to be divided like this, doesn't that foster resentment and create artificial barriers between students?"

"True, Mister Evans, and I will admit that I've been known to "misplace" certain students just to stir things up a bit."

"Then stir things up a bit more, put me and Hermione and Luna, when she gets here into the fifth House."

"The four Houses have heads, and dorms and common rooms. Would you build the fifth house from the existing foundation, and wouldn't the reformation of a fifth house further divide the student body?"

Harry smiled, "It wouldn't be divisive if the mandate of the house was to unite the other four. As for who would house and administer the house, wouldn't that be for the Headmaster to work out?"

The hat chuckled, "Oh, I see. You must have been privy to some of Dumbledore's mechanizations. It would put a bee in his bonnet, wouldn't it?"

"Just so. So, what do you say?"

The hat called out, "I say, Merlin, House of the Founders!"

The generic crest on Harry's robe morphed into a gold shield depicting a deep-purple dragon, wings unfurled, it's head and neck reared back as if ready to strike. Where the ribbon below had read, "Hogwarts," it now spelled out "Merlin." The lining and trim of his robe turned deep purple with gold accents. His school tie changed colors to match.

There was a crash and a splash as the headmaster's golden goblet fell from his fingers and spilled wine all over the professors' table and his garish robes.

A round table appeared, set halfway between the teacher's and the two centre rows of student tables.

Professor McGonagall, nonplused, directed "Harold" to the newly conjured table.

Other students were called, and sorted into standard Houses.

"Granger, Hermione."

"Merlin!"

A few more names, some unremarkable sortings.

"Longbottom, Neville."

"Gryph… Merlin!"

"Parkinson, Pansy."

"Slyth… Are you sure? Very well, Merlin!"

Blaise Zabini, the last name called, was sorted into Slytherin.

"Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

Before each of the four at the founder's table not only food, but a parchment, containing certain Hogwarts by-laws.

Hermione was the first to scan the salient points. "It says here that Merlin's quarters are adjacent to the Library, ooh!"

Harry sniggered, "Easy, girl. What else?"

"Since there are only four of us, we each have our own rooms, but there is a communal bath. Well, we can work up a schedule for that."

Harry noted, "Our head of House is the presiding Headmaster, but he can delegate that responsibility to another teacher."

Pansy frowned, "As there are only four of us, some_one_ will have to assume the role of Prefect, anyone want that?"

Hermione beamed, "I'll take it, if no one else wants to."

A bright copper badge with the letter "P" appeared, and Harry passed it to her. "I'll bet that makes you the youngest prefect since…"

"…Helena Ravenclaw, in the Eleventh Century. It's in…"

Harry and Hermione smiled and said, together, "…Hogwarts, a History!"

The reaction from the Professor's table was mixed.

While all the teachers were surprised, none were angry, after all, this was Hogwarts. Strange was something that you accepted as normal.

Severus Snape had been hoping the potions prodigies would be sorted to Slytherin.

Quirinus Quirrell was deeply troubled that the Founders would manifest themselves in this manner. It couldn't bode well for his own plans.

Dumbledore was aghast, he had much, too much going on to have to accept the role of head for yet another House. He did a quick read on the four eleven year olds at Merlin's table.

Most disturbing was the fact that Evans couldn't be read, at all. No apparent shielding, no occlumency barriers, it was as though there was nothing there to read.

Like he didn't exist.

The Granger girl simply wanted to be with the Evans boy. They were a bit young to be forming such attachments, but then, she _was_ closer to puberty than him. Longbottom was clinging to the first friends of his own age he'd ever made, and Parkinson was desperate to shed her family's Slytherin image. More than that, the Parkinson girl was in awe of a make-believe "Prince and his Consort?" What the hell was _that_ all about?

Deciding a young girl's childish fantasies were just too trivial to bother about, Albus scanned the Professor's table for a likely dupe, ah, volunteer, to take the position of Head of House for the Merlins.

Professor Aurora Sinestra felt uncomfortable under the Headmaster's scrutiny, when she met his gaze she knew she'd been had. With a resigned sigh she nodded.

_Congratulations_, she thought, _I'm head of a House_.

After the feast, a truly bizarre, but nonetheless stirring rendition of the school song, and some equally strange warnings about the castle and grounds, the newest members of the revived House of Merlin were greeted by their new head.

"Good evening, my name is Professor Sinestra. I understand you already know where your quarters are?"

Hermione, in her role as the Merlin Prefect stood and said, "Yes, Professor."

"Let's get settled in then, shall we?"

The five climbed to the fourth floor, giving pause to the third floor corridor that promised trespassers "a painful death." They passed the main Library entrance to stop before a tall mirror.

"Oh my," said the mirror, "What a pretty collection of poppets you are."

Harry and Neville took umbrage at being called pretty, but neither said anything.

Professor Sinestra told the Looking Glass, "Four new students for our House."

"Really?" the mirror sounded delighted, "Something must be coming. The House of Merlin always portents some great event."

The professor sighed, "Be that as it may, they need to enter their new quarters."

"Of course," the mirror was all business now, "Say 'Chhavi,' then state your full name, and pass through."

Harry went first, "Chhavi, Harold Evans."

"Now just step into me, dear."

He stretched out his hand and it felt and looked like he was dipping his fingers in water. The surface of the mirror rippled. Taking a deep breath, Harry stepped through into a spacious, well lit sitting room with a large sofa and chairs set in a semi circle around a warming fire.

"Brilliant!"

Hermione followed, then Pansy and lastly, Neville.

The four students expected to see Professor Sinestra step through but were surprised to see a ghost instead.

"Greetings, Merlins, I am the Lady Helena Ravenclaw, I will be your House ghost."

Harry bowed from the waist, prompted Neville to do the same and said, "Ma'am."

Pansy and Hermione curtseyed, saying, "My Lady."

Hermione said, "Forgive me, my lady, but I thought you were the Ravenclaw ghost."

"I am, when there is no one in the House of Merlin, and there hasn't been for almost two-hundred years. I was the first Prefect of this House, and am always drawn back when there are members. As I've been here longer than most other spirits, I know all the ins and outs of this House.

There are fourteen dormitories, but only one will be open for each of you, in addition there are suites for the head boy and girl, which will open, should one of you rise to that position."

With a grin, she added, "Of course, since no one else will know, we'll leave those suites open for the Merlin prefects."

Pansy sidled up to Harry and Hermione, and whispered, "You should take the suites, as befitting your station."

"That's very kind of you, Pansy, but remember, I'm just Harry from now on, okay?"

With a conspiratorial smile, she whispered, "Of course."

They all settled into their very comfortable rooms, the head's suite shared a smaller version of the House common room, and Harry and Hermione decided to write their respective families.

Harry sat at one of the two writing desks, pulled out some parchment and placed his quill next to the paper.

The quill magically set itself up on its nib and began to write, "Daddy said you would be settled into your rooms by now and that I should try to write you."

"Hermione, look at this!"

"Quick, Harry, write something."

"We are settled in, you wouldn't believe the day we've had!"

"Harry?"

"Luna?"

"Hermione, write something to your folks, they have a pen that matches yours."

"Mum, Dad?"

"Hermione?"

"I _love_ magic!"

Harry and Hermione were exhausted, but too tired to sleep as they informed their families about the train ride, their introduction to Hogwarts and the sorting.

Xeno's distinct handwriting asked, "Fifth House? I never knew there was a fifth House."

After two hours, it became obvious that the newest Hogwarts students were beyond tired, as their writings became less than coherent.

"Go to bed, you have a big day ahead of you."

Harry and Hermione fell into bed together, cuddled like a pair of tired puppies and were instantly asleep.

They dreamed of a grand banquet hall. Pansy and Neville were already seated, as was the Lady Helena.

The Lady smiled and said, "Ah, there you are. Now we can begin."

Harry asked, "Where are we?"

"The simple answer, my lord, is that we're in the first great hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, circa One Thousand and two. But a more truthful answer is that we're in Dreamscape."

"And why are we here?"

"We're here to try to divine the reason for the resurrection of Merlin's House."

Harry looked puzzled, "I thought it was because I didn't want to be in any of the other Houses."

"No, my lord, there is a great evil drawing near. Magic herself is preparing champions."

Neville looked near panicked, "Champions? You mean us? Me?"

Helena graced the small, pudgy boy with a smile, "Yes, Lord Gryffindor."

"I, I'm no Gryffindor. I'm scared. I'm always scared."

"And yet, here you are. In spite of your fear. Do not confuse bravery with foolishness. All too often, heroic figures are a combination of stupidity and dumb luck. Courage is not the absence of fear, it's the drive to go ahead, even when you're afraid."

Pansy sighed, "I had hoped to break out of my family's Slytherin mold, but I suppose I'm just the Slytherin in Merlin's House."

"No, my Lady Ravenclaw, for, though you possess both guile and wit, you prize intelligence over cunning."

Wait, Pansy said, obviously confused, "I thought Hermione would be, well, either Gryffindor or Ravenclaw."

"While it's true, my lady, that our Hermione possesses the attributes that would make her an excellent addition to either of those Houses, she is, above all, loyal and hard working."

Harry paled, "Wait, does that mean… I'm the Slytherin in our House?"

"Clever and cunning, with a hunger to change our world into one that is more just and equitable? One can hardly be more ambitious than that, my Lord Slytherin."

Other ghosts appeared, although in Dreamscape, they were as corporeal as the Lady Ravenclaw.

"As you each represent aspects of the original founders, you will be attended at all times by your House ghost. Do not worry, we shall, for the most part, remain unseen, but always just a call away. We can be used to send messages, or to look ahead if you need to know the lay of the land, as it were."

Hermione asked, "Forgive me, Lady Helena, but are we all sleeping, I mean, will we not rest this evening?"

"Not to worry, Lady Hufflepuff, you will all awaken fresh and rested come morning. In the meantime, let us try to research the nature of the evil that is approaching."

Saying that the students and their "assistants" appeared in the present-day Hogwarts library.

"I would suggest a quick study of current events, then a look at the events that lead up to our present, apparently endangered state."

Hermione was thrilled that the Dreamscape library was both current and accessible.

The four students poured over newspaper and magazine articles, both foreign and domestic, then read through stories of the rise of the 20th century dark lords. Reasoning that, if they could find the source of the evil, they could do something about it.

)O(

True to Lady Helena's word, the four students awoke refreshed. The Head Boy and Girl's rooms shared a bathroom, so Harry and Hermione took turns cleaning up and preparing for the day. They met Neville and Pansy in the common room and, together, they walked down to breakfast.

They were early, and, as there were very few students up at that time, the Bloody Baron appeared holding the ear of Peeves, the Poltergeist.

The baron admonished the mischievous spirit, "You see these four? They are under my protection. _All_ who wear the violet and gold are under my protection. I would be most, _displeased_ should any misfortune come their way. You will be even more so if any mischief is traced back to you!"

"Sah, yes sah! They are under your protection, your bloodiness, sah!"

With a nod and a wink, the baron sank through the floor.

Neville shrugged, "Well, that was odd."

Pansy groaned, "Oh bloody hell, it's Malfoy."

The blond ponce of Slytherin approached the table, nodded to Harry and Hermione and asked, "With your permission, I would like to talk to Pansy."

Harry answered, "That would be up to Pansy."

"Can we talk?"

"Anything you have to say can be said here in front of my _friends."_

"May I sit?"

"Suit yourself."

"The hat was going to put you in Slytherin, how did you stop it? More importantly, _why_ did you stop it?"

"I only asked if it were possible to place me in another House."

"Why would you do that? The Parkinsons have been Slytherins forever."

"Exactly, because my family has been in Slytherin forever. We don't have friends, we have co-conspirators or lackeys, we don't create, we scheme, and whenever a dark lord ascends, there you'll find the Parkinsons. And _others."_

"Meaning?"

"Meaning I don't want to be a tool. I don't want to be used by the next Voldemort who comes along!"

"You _dare_ say his name?"

Hermione couldn't contain herself any longer, "Fear of a name only increases fear of a thing itself."

Draco desperately wanted to snarl at the interruption, but remembered who these two were rumoured to be.

"Yes, I dare. It's a stupid name, don't you know your French, _Malfoy_? It means flight of death, or rather, flight _from_ death. Merlin's hairy balls, how drunk was he to come up with that shite?"

"Language."

"Sorry, Your Grace. The point is, certain families gambled their fortunes, their very lives on that pathetic loser, and I don't want to follow them when the next pathetic loser comes along."

Draco's ears went from pink to red.

"My father was _imperioused_, you know that."

"As far as the Ministry knows, that is. Oh, by the way, Draco, whatever happened to that lovely beach estate the Malfoys _used_ to have near Brighton? Oh, that's right, the Fudges own that now."

"We had to pay off some old debts…"

"Draco, wake up and smell the shite, your pardon, my lady. At the rate your father is going through the Malfoy fortune how much do you think will be left for you?"

The scion of the Malfoy family begged his leave and walked away, stiff backed.

"Baron." Harry whispered.

"Yes, my lord?"

"Keep an eye on him, will you?"

"Aye, my lord."

Neville asked, "Is he going to be a problem?"

Pansy sighed, "Not so much him, but his father was deep into Voldemort's camp. He bribed his way out of trouble, hell, he didn't even stand trial."

He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, "I just want you to know…"

Pansy turned to Neville, "What?"

"I've got your back."

Pansy smiled. It startled everyone at the table. Pansy was pretty when she smiled.

Professor Sinestra arrived with their schedules.

Harry read over his and said, "Charms and Transfiguration and Herbology today, then Astronomy tonight. Let's go get some House points."

Professor Filius Flitwick enjoyed teaching, watching the light come on when a student sussed the right flick and swish; that was real magic.

The "Founder's Four," as they had been dubbed at the welcoming feast came in with confidence clearly beyond their years.

They sat at the front two tables, quills poised, eager to learn.

As Filius lectured the quills scratched furiously, when he demonstrated the various charms they'd be expected to do over the course of the year he noted a bit of disappointment on the part of the Merlins.

After class, the four stayed behind.

Pansy, the most Ravenclaw of the group asked, "Professor, could we please go beyond the most basic assignments. We'll be happy to do the class work and any charms assignments, sir, but we're all capable of doing so much more."

Professor Flitwick raised a gnarled eyebrow, "So if I to ask the difference between a charm and a curse, you would say?"

"Intent, Professor. If the magic is neutral or benign, it's a charm, if it is commonly used for harm it's a curse."

"Who here can perform a simple levitation?"

All four hands went up.

"Would you care to demonstrate?"

Neville, who had been coached on just this topic in Dreamscape flicked and swished and levitated Professor Flitwick's desk into the middle of the room. The other three moved it around before Pansy took over and placed it back on the ground in exactly the same spot it had been at the outset.

The littlest professor, obviously discombobulated, stuttered, "I will draw up some lesson plans more appropriate to your skill level."

"Oh," Pansy said, almost as an afterthought, "I was thinking, we should resurrect the Charms Club, to promote a better understanding of and appreciation for Charms at Hogwarts." With an impish grin she added, "We could call ourselves 'The Charmers,' don't you think?"

Flitwick smiled broadly, "If you organize it, I'll sponsor it, Miss Parkinson."

"Thank you, Professor, good day!"

Transfiguration went much the same.

Matchsticks into needles, too easy. Buttons into beetles, puleeze! They were even beyond teacups to turtles. Trevor, the toad, made a particularly nice trivet.

A very pleased Minerva McGonagall enthused, "I will have a new set of goals and objectives for you by the end of this week."

Neville asked for, and received permission to organize a Transfiguration Studies Club.

First year Defence was all about identifying dangers in the magical world. For a cryptozoologist with half Harry's skill the class was a cakewalk. Professor Quirrell, however, wasn't at all accommodating.

"Muh, Mister Uh, Evans, I have to find a muh, middle ground to teach. I ka, can't be expected to muh, make a whole new lesson plan for fuh, four students."

"Very well, sir, it doesn't hurt to ask."

They sat in front, as usual, quills at the ready when Professor Snape flowed into the classroom, black robes billowing.

"There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class. As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making. However, for those select few..." Snape turned to see the two potions prodigies in the front row, and his manner softened, "Who possess, the predisposition, I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death."

At the end of class, Harry asked, "Professor?"

"You feel that the standard curriculum for first year potions is somewhat beneath you, and hope to move on to lessons that are more appropriate to your skills?"

Harry nodded.

"It just so happens that I need to update the Ordinary Wizarding Level syllabus, I trust you know what that entails?"

Harry swallowed hard, "Yes, sir, it's the examination the ministry uses to award OWLs in potions."

"Think you're… up for it?"

"I believe, with your guidance, we will be, sir."

"Good answer, Evans. Now, I can't have you brewing polyjuice potion in the first year labs, so I propose you act as class assistants, do finish the class work, which, for you, I suspect will be laughably easy. Then watch over the first years, as they have a tendency to blow themselves up from time to time. At the end of the day we can spend an hour or two revising the O W L curriculum and practical exams."

"Professor…"

"Yes, Evans, you may organize a Potions Group. Professors Flitwick and McGonagall have forewarned me."

"Thank you, Professor."

Sitting in the History of Magic with Binns was beyond mind numbing. When next they saw Professor Sinestra they pleaded to be removed from that class, to do independent study, anything but sit through hours of goblin wars read as dry as dust.

"Tell you what, just treat the History class as a personal study time, and I'll talk to the other heads, we may finally be able to get Professor Binns to get some eternal rest."

The next faculty meeting was one for the archives.

Whenever the subject of sacking Professor Binns came up in the past, Dumbledore's sock-puppets, McGonagall and Snape would block Flitwick and Sprout, but now there was a fifth House, a tie-breaker. Worse, the Founder's Four had impressed all their teachers to the point that anything they suggested was acted upon.

A class to bring muggle-born and muggle-raised students up to speed with their witch and wizard contemporaries? No problem.

A Charms Club, a Transfiguration Club, a Potions Club? Done. And his three busiest professors, happily volunteered to sponsor the activities.

Four first years had accomplished more to unite the Four Houses in one term than he and his professors had in the past two decades.

Having endured yet another dull meeting, Albus asked, hopefully, "New business?"

He was about to adjourn when Professor Sinestra stood. "Professor Dumbledore, it's about Professor Binns…"

_Merlin's hairy balls! Not that old chestnut… Again!_

"Professor Binns provides a unique point of view and commentary, not to mention continuity in the teaching of history here at Hogwarts."

Flitwick stood on his chair, "I know for a fact, Albus, that the only reason my Claws do so well on their History of Magic OWLs is because they study materials gathered on their own. That Binns, in fact, teaches _nothing."_

The Headmaster sighed, "Before we send any recommendations to the Board of Governors, we must have a majority of heads in agreement. He looked benignly at Snape and McGonagall, then asked, "All in favor of recommending termination of the longest-standing teacher in the History of Hogwarts."

Professors Flitwick and Sprout raised their hands, then Professor SiGestra.

Uh - oh. Still, not an overwhelming majority. No matter, the headmaster could still stalemate it by casting a vote himself.

Then, the unthinkable happened.

Severus Snape's hand went up, followed by Minerva McGonagall's.

Ashen faced, without another word, Dumbledore stood, then left the room.

The professors looked at each other and shrugged.

Minerva moved to the head of the table, "As deputy Headmistress I call the vote passed in favor of terminating the late Professor Binns, and wish him nothing but success in his afterlife."

"Meeting adjourned!"

The history class was moved to a different classroom and would be taught by a sandy haired, soft spoken wizard by the name of Professor R J Lupin. Binns would still teach his class, there simply wouldn't be anyone in the class to teach. Frankly, everyone was happier that way.

)O(

Sirius Black sat in the dingy corner of the kitchen of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Every surface in the room was covered in layers of oily dust. His fingertips left streaks on the equally dusty bottle of Ogden's Finest, aged in the barrel, seventy-seven years.

The past month had been a roller-coaster ride.

"Has it been a month?" He asked himself.

One month before, to the day, he'd heard keys scraping as they were fitted into the thick iron door of his cell. He was in his Padfoot form, flat against the door where he could transform and not be seen.

Four guards attended him.

"Where we goin'?" he'd managed to croak out, unused to speaking aloud.

"Gotta get you cleaned up, you have ta see a judge." One of the guards finally said.

"In here, get yerself washed."

Sirius stripped without hesitation, or modesty, and luxuriated under a hot shower for a good ten minutes.

Another of the guards charmed the nits out of Sirius's hair and gave him a toothbrush, razor and comb.

When the convict was finished brushing, shaving and combing he was led to another part of the prison he'd never seen, the infirmary.

Therein his vitals were recorded and he was given nutrient and restorative potions.

Then he received a clean tunic, robe and soft boots, along with a soft, warm overcloak to protect him from the biting North Sea cold as he was led to the dock, where a small sailboat waited to take him back to the world.

Half way to the Scottish north coast he realized something, he hadn't been shackled and hobbled the way he'd been on the trip out. There were no magic-suppression manacles on him and he was being treated with common respect and courtesy.

The boat sailed into Buckie five hours later. Sirius followed his guards to the Scottish Ministry Office on the wharf.

A local magistrate handed him a metal hoop and told him to hold on tight. As soon as two of the Azkaban guards grabbed the hoop as well, Sirius felt the familiar tug at his navel. The three men appeared in the portkey port of the Ministry of Magic in London.

He was led into the chambers, but not placed in the accused chair, rather, he was in the gallery, where he watched with total amazement as Peter Pettigrew was questioned under veritaserum.

At the end of the proceedings, the Judge, a portly man of middling years, turned to Sirius.

"Lord Black, I can only say that you have been ill used, and this court and Her Majesty's Government, must accept, in part, some of the responsibility for that. It is my privilege to declare you a free man, and to restore to you your titles, your properties and your fortune. And while I don't expect you to ever forgive this judiciary, I do offer you our most sincere and humble apology, Lord Black."

_Free._

_Free at last!_

_What to do, where to go, who to see?_

_Harry._

_Got to find Harry, my godson!_

_I should never have let him out of my sight. Then I wouldn't have gone off looking for Peter. We could have had a life together. We still can._

He looked up at the Judge, "Milord, can you tell me where my godson is staying, can you take me to him? His name is Harry Potter, and I am his Godfather."

There was an uncomfortable shuffling in the gallery.

"My Lord Black, I wish, more than anything, that I could take you to him. But that is no longer possible."

"What? Why?"

"Because, my lord, young Master Potter is missing, and presumed dead at the hands of his muggle relations."

The unfettered fury that exploded from Sirius Blacks magical core sent wave after wave of destructive energy pulsing through the gallery.

The judge, having seen this type of accidental magic before, touched the shield runes that protected all the people in the chamber. People were unharmed, furnishings and papers and quills, not so much.

Bailiffs moved forward to restrain the grieving mage, but the Judge stopped them, saying, "We've stolen ten years of this man's life, we can stand the loss of a few sticks of furniture."

Finally his rage was spent, and he collapsed, sobbing, to the chamber floor.

Several minutes later, he stood, apologized to the Judge and the others present, then left the chambers.

One week later he sat in his hereditary seat on the Wizengamont, and when new business was announced he stood.

"My Lords, it has come to my attention, these past few years, that justice in Magical Britain is broken. It is my intention to fix it."

He raised a sheaf of parchments, "Let us begin with the actions of the Chief Warlock of this, our Wizengamot…"

By the end of the day, there was a new Chief Warlock, and a strongly worded proposal was prepared for delivery to the International Confederation of Wizards.

Albus Dumbledore did not have a good week.

The following week, Sirius haunted the offices of scryers, seers, readers of cards, crystals and entrails. He even sought out a necromancer. But no one could find Harry James Potter, living or dead.

The large Jamaican Medium laid down her last card and said, "Ah am sorry, Mon, truly. But da boy you seek, he don' exist. He, like as not, nevah has."

Sirius's voice trembled, "Everyone tells me you're the best, Mother Marga, and you say my Godson is, what, gone?"

"No, and it breaks my heart ta be tellin' you dis. But de cards say, you boy has nevah been."

He tried to hand the medium a gold galleon, but the spiritualist refused, "I don' take you gold, lessen' I give you satisfaction."

"You have, Mother Marga. You've told me where not to look."

And he left the coin, and left the house, went to the least appealing of his London properties, Grimmauld Place, and looked for Harry in the bottom of a bottle.

He looked at the oily streaks on the glass and wondered aloud, not for the first time. "Was it all just a dream?"

The last thing he expected was to get an answer.

)O(

"Good morning, class, welcome to your first flying lesson, I'm Madame Hooch. Well, what are you waiting for?"

"Stand to the left of the broom, place your right hand over the handle and say _up!_ It's very important to say it clearly, authoritatively."

The first two brooms that smacked into palms were Harry and Pansy's.

Hermione's rolled on the ground like a puppy wanting its belly rubbed. "Oh, bother! Harry, may I ride your broomstick? Mine's being difficult."

Pansy turned beet red in her supreme effort to control the howls of laughter threatening to explode. She was going to have to have a long talk with Her Grace, the Royal Consort.

Harry handed his over and said, "Anytime you want, my lady. You never even have to ask."

She nudged hers over to Harry, who summoned it effortlessly.

Madame Hooch continued, "Very good, now, keeping a firm grip on the broom's handle, step astride it. You should sense the cushioning charm as you relax onto your broom. When I blow the whistle, you'll start off with a basic hover, then touch down, ready?"

Harry and Pansy stood on either side of Neville, knowing that he was terrified at the prospect of flying, well, _falling._

The broom knew it too. And decided to take off like a deranged rocket.

"Mr Longbottom!"

Madame Hooch wasn't on a broom, but Harry, Hermione and Pansy were. Neville's broom was three seconds ahead, which may not sound like much, but try winning a sprint against a runner as fast as you and see who gets to the finish line first with a three second head start.

The three other Founders flattened themselves along their broomsticks to cut down on air resistance, and quickly caught up with Neville's bucking, flailing broomstick. The rocky slope of a Scottish hill grew ever larger in their path.

"Pull up, Neville, pull up on the front of the broom stick!"

He did, and the aging besom must have known he meant business because it shot straight up, Harry and the girls in hot pursuit.

Harry caught up first, "Neville, there's a stirrup back by the broom-straw, put your right foot down on it. Good, now your left, a little lower, that's it! Now, it's just like riding a bicycle."

"I don't know how to ride a bicycle!"

"We'll get you one for Christmas, what's your favorite colour?"

"What?"

"The bicycle, what colour do you want."

Neville thought about it, and the broom calmed down.

Pansy flew up to his other side and shouted, "Excellent, Neville, now, move the stick, slowly left, and lean into it."

They did a perfect left banking turn in diamond formation, with Neville at the point.

"Now right!"

He did, again a perfectly executed turn. The foursome looked like a precision flying squad.

Harry smiled to see his best male friend beaming, "I'm doin' it, I'm really flying!"

A few simple maneuvers, mostly climbing and diving, always in perfect formation.

After a few minutes, Harry called out, "Let's head back, nice and easy."

They touched down on the green to cheers and applause.

"Mr Longbottom," Madame Hooch said, crossly, "Let me see that broomstick!"

Neville surrendered the broom and looked on as Madame Hooch clucked and tisked, "The fletching straws are shot, there are stress cracks all along the length of this relic. Not your fault Mr Longbottom, this broom should have been binned long ago."

Neville held his hand out for the broom, "If you're just going to bin it, ma'am, may I have it, please?"

"I'll have to disenchant it first, it's not safe."

"That's fine, I would just like to have it, Madame Hooch."

A quick wave of her wand, and the broom was simply a broom, "Here you are."

"Thanks. Good lesson. Looking forward to the next one."

Neville walked away, Pansy by his side, the broomstick that taught him he could fly over his right shoulder. He stopped at the edge of the pitch, turned back and said, "Oh, Harry?"

"Yeah, Neville?"

"Red."

"Beg pardon?"

"I'd like a red bicycle for Christmas."

"You've got it, mate!"

)O(

"Clotho, Lachesis, and Athropos did not deliver you from Hell just to watch you drink yourself to death, my friend."

Sirius looked up through bleary eyes and asked, "Remus?"

"Here, drink this." Remus Lupin told him, offering a small beaker filled with cloudy, amber liquid.

"Whaz zis?"

"It's what you need, _first."_

Sirius raised the beaker, "To my godson, the boy who never was…" downed it in a single gulp, and looked up at his old Marauder mate. "…got anymore?"

Remus half smiled, "Not just yet, where is the loo?"

"Down the hall, up the stair, firs' door on the right."

"You'd better get started then."

"I don' need th' loo."

"You will, in about, oh, fifteen seconds. I'd get a head start if I were you."

Sirius's digestive tract rumbled and grumbled in the loudest example of borborygmus ever heard in the whole of London, magical or otherwise.

Eyes wide as saucers, he shot to his feet and half ran, half fell down the hall, up the stair and through the first door on his right.

Whistling a little tune, Remus picked up the small rubbish bin from the kitchen corner and followed his best friend at a leisurely pace.

_He'll be needing this as well._

Forty minutes later Sirius stumbled back down the stair, "What in Merlin's name did you do to me?"

"A present from Poppy, a combination purgative, diuretic and laxative, guaranteed to detoxify in one dose."

"I hate that witch." He turned one bloodshot eye to Remus, "I hate you too, right now."

"Yeah, well, you'll get over it."

"Harry's gone."

"I know."

"It's like he never was."

"I know."

"Except he was. I was the first to hold him, after James and Lily." Tears streaked down his face.

"And now you want to kill yourself? Damn it man, you survived ten years, ten _years_ in Azkaban. Now you're going to throw it all away?"

"What can I do?"

"You can choose life. Harry wouldn't want you to give up. He doesn't want anyone to die for him - that won't bring him back. He needs us to go on living, to keep his memory alive. That's our focus now, not dying for him, but living, because that's what he would want."

Sirius palmed the tears from his grimy face, "What do I do now?"

"First thing? Take a bath, you reek. I could smell you from outside and it's nowhere near a full moon!"

Sirius nodded meekly and shuffled back up the stairs.

An hour later, freshly bathed, shaved and combed he practically fell onto the plate of Shepherd's Pie Remus had prepared.

"You need to drink at least a litre of water now, and another before you go to bed."

Sirius did, and didn't realize how tired he was until his head hit the pillow and he started dreaming.

Harry was there. He was eighteen months old, James had balanced his oversized glasses on his son's nose. That, and his unruly locks made him look like a caricature of his dad.

The baby boy looked up at Sirius and said, "So kay, unka Paddy, don' be sad."

Weeping, Sirius slept.

)O(

A shout out to Jabarber69 for his suggestion, ' How about Merlin for a fifth house?' It's a good fit for this story.

This chapter was brilliantly Brit-picked by the inestimable Tommy King, take a bow, Tommy!


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Albus Dumbledore was _not_ having a good month.

His income stream had just gone down by the amount of one tenured teacher with seventy years of seniority. A ghost had no need of galleons, so Professor Binns's wages had been conveniently routed to the Headmaster's 'discretionary' fund. Remus Lupin, on the other hand, actually expected to be paid. Harry Potter had dropped off the face of the Earth and the House of Merlin, the so called 'Founder's Four,' was exerting influence over the school the likes of which he'd never seen, in spite of the fact that they were all _firsties!_

Thursday, September 19th, Harry and Hermione made their way up to the astronomy tower to study the night sky. Neville and Pansy were close behind. Once the class cleared the top of the tower, Professor Sinestra planned to give them each a different planet to find and describe.

Thursday evening classes tended to be low key, as there were no early morning classes on Friday mornings. It didn't hurt to keep the students up late. She noticed there was a bit of tension in her own House, easy to spot when you only have four students. For some unknown reason, Harry seemed to be straggling behind, and keeping the other three with him.

"Catch up," Sinestra chided, "It wouldn't do for my own House to be late for class!"

When they got to the top of the tower, it was festooned with streamers and balloons and, on a massive table, an equally massive cake.

As soon as Hermione cleared the top stair to the tower, twelve candles on the cake flared to life.

"Surprise!"

Hermione Granger, gob-smacked, walked to the table where candles blazed over a cake that read, "Happy Birthday, Hermione!"

"I. I thought you'd all forgotten…"

Harry smirked, "Not bloody likely."

"Language."

"Sorry, Your Grace. Well, blow out the candles!"

"Make a wish!"

She looked at Harry, smiled prettily and said, "I already have."

"Well," the professor said, in mock exasperation, "We may as well eat this, our night vision is shot for at least half an hour."

The Puffs and Claws, with whom the Founders had Astronomy class, cheered and tucked in.

Neville and Pansy gave Hermione a lap desk.

"You like to study in bed, and this way you'll have a comfortable surface for taking notes." Pansy reasoned.

Luna sent her a delicate bookmark made of wafer-thin silver, with a dragon design etching.

Harry gave her a boxed set of Patricia Wrede's Enchanted Forest series, Dealing with Dragons, Searching for Dragons, and Talking with Dragons.

"I want you to do some reading just for fun. These are very good, and I hear she's working on a fourth book in the series."

Her father sent along a three-part gold locket that opened up in four sections along with instructions to "Fill the locket with loved ones."

Her mother sent her a smallish purse, and, in the purse, a sturdy wind-up wrist watch - as anything electronic would go wonky at Hogwarts.

All told, Hermione insisted it was her best birthday ever.

)O(

When the Founder's four got back to their rooms they wasted no time getting to bed, because all the real progress they were making, whether in class or in their 'special' project, was in Dreamscape.

Lady Helena and Sir Nicholas greeted them as they entered the dream library. The Bloody Baron sketched a half-bow, as Brother Michael, the corpulent friar, looked up from the scrolls he was studying to give them a friendly nod.

"Lord Slytherin," the Baron asked, "have you sussed the evil that is rising?"

Harry rolled his eyes, "Lord Baron, could you please just call me Harry?"

"'Tis not easy to change my ways, my lord, I have been haunting this castle for most of a millennium."

"Please, Baron, try."

"I will, my lord, now, can you tell us what you have found?"

Harry turned to his bushy-haired friend, "Hermione?"

She cleared her throat, then thought, _Why would anyone in Dreamscape have to do that? Oh well, old habits._

"Empirical evidence suggests that macro-cosmic magic undergoes cycles, fluctuations whereby dark magic overcomes the forces of light, only to be subdued again. Representing cycles of darkness and light in the magical realms."

Pansy nudged Neville, who held up a large vellum chart. She described the graph, "In the Twentieth Century there have been two large spikes, where conflicts encompassed whole nations, here in the first decades of this century, and later in the Thirties and Forties. These global conflicts involved not only the magical realms, but the mundane nations as well. There is a third spike, not quite as large, but still significant, near the end of the sixth decade. However, although tensions between non-magical nations were high, there were no wholesale conflicts. 'Bush wars' broke out, where smaller nations clashed as proxies for the greater military powers."

Harry took over, "In each of these cases, where there are spikes," he gestured the crests formed by the sinusoidal wave on the chart, "there was a Dark Lord."

"In each case, a Dark Lord rose to power, only to be brought down, either by a champion of light, the efforts of a dedicated resistance, or a combination of the two."

Hermione added, "There is anecdotal evidence of similar spikes going back ten centuries, where, in a cycle of thirty to fifty years, a powerful wizard or witch would attempt to subjugate the magical world and impose his or her will on, well, everybody."

The four ghosts exchanged glances.

Helena asked, "Can you form a conclusion from your observations?"

Harry shook his head, "No, we have a qualified guess, backed up by observations, but for now?" He shrugged his shoulders.

Hermione added, "It looks good on paper, but none of us can say for certain."

Neville concluded, "We believe another Dark Lord or Lady will emerge from the remnants of the Death Eaters."

Harry and Hermione shared a look, which the Bloody Baron noticed, "What is it, Lord Slytherin, Lady Hufflepuff?"

Hermione nodded for Harry to field the question, "It just seems too easy."

Brother Michael, taken aback, asked, "Too easy?"

"Yes, Brother. A Dark Lord, or Lady, vying for power could effectively be contained by any competent, Governmental Law Enforcement Agency."

Hermione continued, "Let's say a new, powerful Dark Lord rises? If our purpose is to take him down, where does that leave the rest of Mage society?"

Sir Nicholas looked confused, "Better off?"

Pansy shook her head vehemently, "No, worse!"

"You'll have a population that, through no effort or sacrifice of their own, will see yet another dark lord defeated. This will lead to complacency, and a sense of unearned entitlement."

Neville nodded his head, "A whole magical generation that will believe that, as long as they do nothing, everything will work out for them."

Harry concluded, "And the only thing an evil wizard needs to succeed, is for good wizards to do nothing."

The four House ghosts were all standing by that point, "So, what do we do?"

"We have to defeat the evil that is rising, but do it in a way that will require the magical world, or at least, magical Britain, to get off their collective arses."

)O(

The House of Merlin had History of Magic with Gryffindor and Slytherin. As usual, the Merlins sat in front, Harry with Hermione and Neville with Pansy.

Professor R J Lupin entered and tapped the chalkboard with his wand, and the lesson of the day materialized in neat, block letters:

_Current events - and how we got here._

"Good morning, class." The soft-spoken man started, "I must begin with an apology. For those of you who are used to having free time for reading or revising for other classes, or sleeping, I'm afraid you've come to the wrong room. Professor Binns is still discussing the Goblin Wars, ad nauseum, in his old classroom."

There were a few nervous chuckles in the room.

"Upon my word, I can't imagine how anyone can describe some of the most heroic battles of all time with such enthusiasm as to induce catatonia."

More chuckles now, as students listened, quills poised.

"We will, of course, meet the goals and objectives set forth in the class syllabus, but, in addition, I want us all to know where we are, today, as young witches and wizards, and, most importantly," Professor Lupin touched the blackboard with his wand for emphasis, "How we got here."

The professor captured his class with a hard stare, "Why?"

Hermione started to raise her hand, but Harry gently placed his hand on her arm, whispering, "Let someone else have this one."

Lupin's eyes lit on the back of the room, "Yes, Miss Bulstrode?"

"So we don't make the same mistakes our folks did?"

"Excellent, take five points for Slytherin."

Pansy turned and gave her childhood playmate a thumbs up.

The professor continued, his enthusiasm infectious, "Indeed, Edmund Burke, a muggle philosopher and statesman, said it best over two hundred years ago, quote, ""Those who don't know history are destined to repeat it," unquote."

Remus looked at the front two tables and smiled, "You knew that, though, didn't you?"

All four heads nodded.

The rest of the class was a breath of fresh air for students who'd endured ninety minutes of monotone droning about "Ripfang the Reprehensible" and the dry statistics that quantified his appetite for general mayhem. If the first year students were relieved, the second through fifth years were ecstatic. There are no NEWT level History of Magic classes, so the course of study ends with the OWLs.

Hermione greeted the Remus at the end of class, "Professor, I noticed the second years have a research project."

The professor nodded, "Yes."

"We," she gestured to the other three Merlins, "are very interested in historical trends, and would like to study them, in addition to our regular class work. May we?"

Remus looked puzzled, "Are you asking to, um, 'step outside the box,' as it were, to do more for this class than is required?"

"Yes, sir. And we would like to ask you, from time to time, to check our progress."

Smiling, the professor asked, "Is this some kind of elaborate prank?"

Four faces, grave and impassive, looked back.

"Oh, you're serious. Very well, yes, of course, but you will still be expected to produce a research project in your second year, is that acceptable."

Hermione asked, "May we continue on the same topic we used for this year, Professor Lupin?"

"Yes, yes of course, Miss Granger."

As he answered Hermione's question, Remus's attention focused on the auburn-haired boy.

And he shuddered.

Remus couldn't say why, but something about Harold Evans was off. He was an excellent student, as were all in his house, however, the professor's furry little problem did endow him with true extra sensory perceptions, and Evans was a complete enigma. In short, he didn't smell quite right. Not bad, mind you, just not right.

)O(

October Thirty-first came with a light dusting of frost and a troll.

Without a trace of stutter, a shrill, huffing, puffing, Quirinus Quirrell screeched, "Troll! Troll in the dungeon! Thought you ought to know."

Then fell flat on his face.

"Hermione?" Harry asked, "Didn't you tell me a fainting person usually falls backwards?"

She narrowed her eyes at the prostrate professor and said, "Yes, I read about it in the 'Handbook for Girl Guides.' Usually your knees buckle, then you fall backwards."

Through the cacophony of students and the magically amplified Headmaster, Professor Sinestra was able to tell her House, using simple gestures, to go to the Founder's common room.

Their House was the only one in the centre of the school, rather than one of the peripheral corners, so they quickly separated from the rest of the student body.

As they turned the corner for the staircase leading up from the second floor, they smelled something that reeked of putrid bog and old socks. And saw the troll lumber into a girl's bathroom.

Harry ran up to the bathroom door and quickly pulled it hard, setting a locking charm as the door slammed shut.

"Got him, now we just need to get the professors here…"

Whatever else he was going to say was cut short by the sound of shattered porcelain and a girl screaming.

His face went white as all his blood seemed to flow to his feet.

"Someone's in there!"

Without a further thought, he banished the door just in time to see the troll raise his club.

"Hermione, Pansy! Ice the floor, now!"

_"__Planto glacies!"_

Luckily, there was already a great deal of water on the floor from where the troll had smashed sinks and burst pipes.

"Neville, summon the club on three, two, one… _Accio_ club!"

Trolls are not known for their intelligence.

This one had raised his club to smack the dark, annoying sounding, screaming girl and, at full extension, felt the club pull him back.

It never occurred to the troll to simply let go of the club.

Club and troll tumbled backwards, then began to slide on the ice toward the young wizards.

"Um, Harry, he's coming this way."

"I know. Hermione, Pansy, keep icing the floor. Neville, get that girl out of the bathroom."

Neville balked, "I can't go into a _girls_ bathroom!"

"Go!"

"Alright, alright!"

Harry directed his wand at the troll's center of mass and intoned, "_Roto."_

Seven hundred pounds of troll began to spin, slowly at first, then faster and faster as the frozen floor had become a virtually frictionless surface.

Neville slipped and slid past the rotating behemoth and into the bathroom, emerging a few moments later with a wet and cowering Parvati Patil.

This was the scene that a flabbergasted Scottish Deputy Headmistress came upon, flanked by Professors Snape and Quirrell.

"Whit dae ye think yer daein'?"

Harry happily stepped back and let the troll spin down.

Hermione explained, "We were on our way up to our common room, when we saw the troll enter the girl's bathroom. Harry saw a chance to contain it without endangering himself or anyone else so he closed and locked the door on it."

"Unfortunately, the bathroom wasn't empty. We heard screams so we opened the door and iced the floor, making the troll slip and fall. Harry kept the troll unbalanced while Neville got Parvati out of the bathroom, and then we saw you."

"And did it not occur to any of you come get a professor?"

Pansy, slightly exasperated, "Ma'am, it took two of us to keep the floor iced, Harry's spell was spinning the beast to keep it from getting up and Neville was making sure Parvati was okay. We honestly couldn't spare anyone."

Neville added, "And in the time it would have taken to get a professor, Pavarti would been killed."

The troll, dizzy from the spin tried to get up, only to slip and fall on the ice.

Professor McGonagall snapped the two professors with her from their shock-induced stupor and ordered, "Somnus on three, gentlemen. One, two, three… _Somnus."_

With that, the troll slept.

"I hope you realize, Mister Evans, that not many first year students could face a fully grown mountain troll, and live to tell the tale. Twenty five points, for each of you, for pure audacity and more than a dram of sheer, dumb luck."

Severus Snape grinned, or perhaps grimaced, it was hard to tell with him.

Quirinus Quirrell stood silent and amazed throughout the interview.

)O(

Ronald Weasley was nervous. He'd been summoned by his Head of House, and, unless she was going to start a chess club, it couldn't be for any good reason that he could think of.

"Mr Weasley, do you know why you're here?"

"No, Professor."

"Yesterday, in Professor Flitwick's Charms class, you were having difficulty using the levitation spell, am I correct?"

"It's not an easy spell, ma'am."

"Indeed. And one of your classmates, a fellow Gryffindor, no less, attempted to help you with the charm…"

"I was mad at the feather, ma'am. I didn't mean to say, um, what I said."

"And what did you say, Mr Weasley?"

"I told Parvati, that is, Miss Patil, to, um, leave me be."

"Your exact words?"

"I may have used the word _wog."_

"According to five of your Housemates, you said, quote, "Bugger off you bloody wog," unquote."

"I'm sorry, ma'am. Really I am."

"You may have heard the old saying, _sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me?"_

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well, that's rubbish. Names hurt, deeply. You cut Miss Patil to the quick with your thoughtless, childish outburst, and, as a consequence, she spent the rest of the afternoon in the second floor girls bathroom, crying."

"I'm sorry…"

"And when the troll got into the castle, do you have any idea where it went?"

"The troll?"

"Yes, Mr Weasley, the troll."

Ashen faced, Ronald said, "No, please no…"

Minerva nodded, seeing that she was getting through to the errant ginger. "Yes, Mr Weasley. She was very nearly killed by that troll. If it hadn't been for the skills and quick thinking of four of our finest students, she would have been killed.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor for your lack of judgment and an additional ten points for that foul, racist term. In addition you will spend the next month after dinner cleaning out the bathrooms on all the floors. Lastly, you will apologize to Miss Patil, publicly, in the same classroom where you insulted her, and you will be sincere."

Tears of guilt and shame coursed down Ron's cheeks as he nodded. It was no less than what he deserved, and he knew it.

)O(

The Founder's Four were in the Potion Master's dungeon after their last class of the day, carefully rendering freshly-shed boomslang skin.

Neville pondered, aloud, "I wonder if anyone has ever studied whether the green skin from the male boomslang snake makes a more effective polyjuice potion when taken by a boy or man?"

He was startled when Professor Snape, who had silently moved behind him, said, "That was the basis for my Potion's Master's Thesis."

Hermione asked, "Oh, may I read that, _please_ Professor?"

Snape smirked, "Of course, and perhaps you will discover for yourself the glaring fallacy in my conclusion that the Master's board missed entirely."

Satisfied that he'd rendered the garrulous Miss Granger speechless, Professor Snape ghosted from the lab.

Harry, lost in thought, muttered, "I can't put my finger on it, but there's something about that Professor that sets me on edge."

Hermione asked, "Professor Snape? I thought you loved his class."

"No, not Professor Snape, I mean Quirrell. Have you seen the way he watches us, like he's trying to catch us at something?"

Pansy nodded, "Um, hum. And I've noticed his stutter comes and goes."

"We'll keep an eye on him inasmuch as we can."

)O(

The first week of December brought snow and Luna.

Harry and Hermione waited in front of the main entrance for the "horseless" carriage to arrive. His Luna was coming to Hogwarts today, and, if all went well, would be joining them in the Founder's House after the Yule break.

Hermione giggled, "Calm down, Harry, it's not like we haven't spoken with her since the end of August. We "talk" to each other every night through our charmed quills."

"I know, I know, it's just that… There she is!"

Harry didn't notice Hermione's sad little smile as he actually jumped for joy at seeing Luna again.

_Am I jealous?_ She asked herself.

_Maybe just a little. H__e thinks the world of "his" Luna._

The girl of the hour stepped out of the carriage, then went to where the horse would be, if there was one, and cooed while stroking a non-existent flank.

"Thank you for bringing us."

"Luna!"

She turned her too-large, dreamy, silver-grey eyes toward the sound of her name, then cried in delight as she spotted her Harry.

They ran, collided, embraced and fell on the frozen flagstones before Hogwarts main doors. Laughing, crying, squealing like the children they were, If they hadn't been wrapped in layers of thick, winter weight clothing, they might have been hurt.

Hermione groused, "A little decorum wouldn't go amiss, _children!"_

Harry and Luna lay on the wide, icy footpath and each held out a hand, clearly gesturing the need to be helped up.

As Hermione reached down, the two miscreants pulled her down on top of them. She shrieked, then proceeded to hug and laugh and tumble on the ground, together with her best friends.

And Hermione understood.

They were simply, well, _right_ together, and she loved them as much as they loved her, and each other.

She might need therapy someday, but for now, she was going to go with it.

Xenophilius stepped out of the carriage and wished, not for the first time, that he'd brought a camera.

"Is this some new Hogwarts ritual, should I find someone to roll around on the ground with here in the eaves of the main entrance?"

Two things happened at that point.

Aurora Sinestra stepped out onto the icy footpath, extended her hand in greeting, and Xeno slipped on the ice.

Knocking the poised, well-dressed, head of House off her feet and onto him.

Harry and the girls jumped up to make sure Luna's dad and their Professor were unhurt, and, once they were satisfied that the only things _badly_ bruised were egos, helped them to their feet. They laughed and chided the "old-folks" to be more careful.

The group convened in Professor McGonagall's office, where written assignments, essays, and lab notes were evaluated.

Professor McGonagall smiled at the high quality and sheer volume of the work done under Xeno's tutelage. "Excellent, first rate. I see no problem having Miss Lovegood test out of first term and placed as a first year come January"

Minerva, looked up from her notes to see the three children looking back and forth between Xenophilius and Aurora, pleading with their eyes.

"Something you wish to share, children, Mr Lovegood, Professor Sinestra?"

"If possible, the students of Merlin's House, and Miss Lovegood, would like to take the second-year, end of term exams, for the purpose of advanced placement."

Professor McGonagall sighed, "There are precedents, but this would have to be approved by the headmaster…"

Xenophilius smiled, "Or a majority of the members of the Hogwarts Board of Governors." He passed her a thick envelope.

Minerva opened the envelope and pulled several copies of the ancient, but still valid, advancement forms. The professor's eyebrows threatened to rise above her hairline, "You have nine of the twelve Governors backing you on this?"

Xeno shrugged, "Power of the press, I guess…"

Realizing she was dealing with ambitious, intelligent people who had done _all_ their homework in this matter, she nodded her acquiescence.

"Don't be surprised when the Headmaster tries to invalidate this."

"Only if he wants to be crucified in the court of public opinion."

And Minerva McGonagall smiled, knowing that was Dumbledore's true Achilles heel. Public opinion mattered to him, above all else.

)O(

That evening Luna joined the Founders in Dreamscape. She was as much at home there as anywhere. She had no trouble accepting what was happening in her dreams were, in fact, happening.

"Many cultures insist dreamtime is every bit as relevant as waking time, Hogwarts just makes it more so."

)O(

Monday, the third week in December, five very young students sat in the first row of desks set up in the great hall for end of term testing.

Cho Chang, a second year student and reserve seeker for the Ravenclaw Quidditch team cleared her throat and said, politely, "Excuse me, but I believe the first years take their end of term tests in the afternoon."

Luna smiled and said, "Thank you, I believe you're right."

Marietta Edgecombe scoffed, "Are you all thick, or just lost?"

Five faces looked back, calm, benign.

Reddening, Marietta demanded, "Do you even know what year you're in?"

Luna, still infuriatingly calm, said, "That's what these exams will decide."

Which brought guffaws from the gathering 'Claws.

Harry smiled a smile that didn't reach his eyes, "How about a little wager on, say, which House has the highest marks?"

"What, money?"

"Nah, we don't need your money, got plenty of our own. I was thinking about a point of pride."

"Sounds good," Eddie Carmichael said. "Losers will serve us, I mean, the winners, during the feast before the Yule break."

"With no House-elf assistance." Harry agreed.

"High marks against high marks?" Cho asked.

Harry shook his head, "No, assign a point value to each mark, say a zero for poor and below. One point for Acceptable, two points for Exceeds Expectations and three for Outstanding marks."

You could see the wheels turning in the Ravenclaw's collective crania, the Founder's House would have to have perfect marks to win, one poor mark would pull their average down to a greater degree as there were only five of them.

Cho assumed the role of spokeswitch for her House, and, getting an affirmative nod from her classmates, held out her hand, "Done!"

"So say we all?" Harry asked of the room.

"So say we all, so mote it be!" the Ravenclaws cheerfully responded. There was no way they could lose to a bunch of firsties.

Harry smiled and said, "Done!"

The exams took two days, the professors, having been apprised of the wager, paid particular attention to both groups, and refused to publish the marks until the last exam, astronomy, was completed late on the second evening.

The Weasley twins had caught wind of the wager and were running book throughout the whole of Hogwarts, giving five to one odds on the "Founder's Five."

One minute past midnight, on the day before the feast, the results were announced.

The winners cheered, the losers groaned, but no one cried "Foul!"

During the Yule feast the round table was surrounded by the whole of Ravenclaw House, all of whom stood in solidarity with their humbled second years.

"After all," Professor Flitwick, head of House for the 'Claws insisted, "The wager was not for a class to serve, but an entire House."

So the Ravens ran relays, bringing holiday food and drink to the Merlin's table. The winners were gracious, thanking their "hosts" for their hard work and dedication, then begged them to all sit and enjoy the feast, as the spirit of the wager was more than satisfied.

Cheers all around.

The Weasley twins made a very tidy sum, as ninety percent of the bettors had wagered against the former "firsties." The twins, having learned earlier that it just didn't pay to go up against _that_ House, put all their savings down on Harry and company.

Professor McGonagall brought out the Sorting Hat and announced, "We have the rare privilege of sorting a new student into her House mid-year. Miss Lovegood, if you please?"

Luna walked up to the Deputy Headmistress, studied the hat, then said, "You, sir hat, are very magical."

"Thank you dear, now, may I sort you?"

"Oh, yes, House of Merlin, please."

"Shouldn't I be the one to say that?" The hat said, with an unmistakable smirk in his torn brim.

Minerva raised the hat above Luna's head, but before it even touched the sandy-blonde hair it announced, "Merlin!"

)O(

The Yuletide Express rolled out of Hogsmeade station following the feast. Five newly minted second years found a compartment to share and discussed Hogwarts, the coming evil, and wondered if they would still be able to come together in Dreamscape once they'd left the castle.

The discussion came around to Defence Against the Dark Arts, and they wondered aloud how different the second year curriculum would be from first year.

Neville mused, "Same professor, but there must be a different focus, maybe more emphasis on practical defense, you know, like self defence and duelling."

They pondered the material on the first-term, second year exam - for which they had all earned full marks.

"Professor Quirrell has a second, third eye." Luna announced, as if she were commenting on the weather.

Four pairs of eyes widened over four slack jaws as everyone in the compartment waited for the explanation.

Harry recovered first, and explained, "Luna senses magic, a form of mage sight that perceives magic as basic, fundamental particles. I don't understand it, really, and I don't see it, myself, but I know it's true that _she_ does."

"I see motes of golden light, which I call nargelites. The more magic in a person or any living thing, or magical artifact, come to that, the more nargelites."

"First time I met Luna she told me I had the most she'd ever seen, I thought she was taking the piss."

"In people, nargelites concentrate around certain parts of the body. The head, of course, the spine, hands and feet, and, once we're a little older, in our, um, more private areas."

Trying to move Luna out of the TMI territory, Harry prompted, "Third eye?"

"Oh yes, every magical being, witch or wizard, kneazle or crup or snorkack, all have a "third eye" in the centre of the forehead, equidistant from their two eyes. It's the third eye chakra, sometimes called the "inner eye."

Neville nodded, "My Nan is into meditation, and she talks about her third eye all the time."

Luna smiled, relishing the level of acceptance her Housemates were granting her. "Nargelites tend to cluster near the third eye, and Professor Quirrell has one on the back of his head, as well as the front."

Pansy snorted, "So he's two faced?"

Luna nodded.

"Wait, wait. I thought you were joking."

Harry's eyebrows furrowed, "It might be interesting to see what's beneath Quirrell's turban."

They discussed different ways to de-turban their Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor for a while, when there was a polite knock at the sliding glass door.

Malfoy and his two shadows.

"Miss Parkinson, a word please."

"Very well. Crabbe, you stay here, Luna, would you come with me please?"

Draco looked hurt, "Don't you trust me?"

"Oh yes, Malfoy, like I'm going to accompany you and your two bully boys anywhere."

"Don't wanna stay here." Crabbe said, in a surprisingly high-pitched voice for such a large boy.

"I'll go with you, Pansy. That way the numbers will be even."

Pansy smiled, "Works for me, Luna, do you have your mirror? I need to powder my nose."

Luna handed over a small square plastic case.

"Thanks."

The six began to amble in the direction of the engine as Hermione pulled a mirror from her purse.

Harry raised an eyebrow, "Charmed mirrors?"

Hermione nodded, tapped hers and said, "Listen."

Draco was whispering, "…settled on a bride price. Your dowry is the title on the Parkinson lands after your parents are gone."

"Did they even ask if this is what you want, Draco?"

The Merlins heard a barking noise that was a combination snort and laugh, "As if they'd even ask me for my opinion. No, it's an old pureblood family thing."

She lowered her voice, "There may be another suit."

"Longbottom?"

"Maybe."

"At this point, all I'm supposed to do is tell you that an offer has been made. I haven't been told to get you to say yes… Yet."

"And if they do. Tell you, I mean."

"Let's hope they don't."

"I want to go back to the others now."

There was a rustle of cloth, a few murmured, "Beg pardons," and the odd entourage returned.

"See," Draco said with a smile that was more than a little forced, "All safe and sound."

With that the Slytherins walked away.

Pansy took her seat, smiled and hissed, "Hermione, listen to your mirror."

"You didn't…"

"What, drop my charmed mirror into Malfoy's pocket? That would be devious and underhanded and clever."

Everyone in the compartment got quiet and listened.

Another voice asked, "Well, what'd she say?"

Draco answered, "She didn't say no, but…"

A man's voice, albeit tinny and seemingly far away, said, "Probably trying to drive up the bride price. Who is it?"

"Longbottom."

Laughter, "That squib? No problem, he'll just have an unfortunate accident."

More laughter, "What of the Prince and his consort?"

The far away sounding voice demanded, "No one touches them! At least, not until I can make some inquires."

"That's Lucius Malfoy, Draco's dad," Pansy said, "I've heard enough," then opened the window and threw Hermione's mirror out to smash along the gravel rail bed. Everyone present knew that smashing one of a pair of magic mirrors automatically disenchants the other.

"I can feed them information about the reclusive nature of the Court of Magical Guyana. It'll be enough to satisfy Lucius Malfoy's curiosity. Wizards are far too lazy to do any real research on their own. Good thing for us."

Hermione smirked, "Pansy, how long have you known?"

"Since that first day in Diagon Alley. I thought I'd really put my foot in it, mouthing off to royals, but then I remembered my cousin Felix, who lives in Colombia. So I found a public Floo and called him to ask about South American royals. He told me there are none. No royal titles, aside from a few peers who have winter homes in Cartagena, Colombia and Georgetown in what _used_ to be British Guyana."

"So, all this time, you've been playing along?"

Her only answer was to smile a brilliant smile.

The compartment rang with laughter.

Neville, who was in the dark about the "Royals" prank was clued in. "Hey, don't I rate a knighthood, at the very least?"

"Of course, Sir Neville of Longbottom, Knight of the Court of Georgetown."

Pansy groused, "Oi, what about me? Without me, half the school wouldn't even know about the supposed "blueness" of your blood!"

Harry touched her shoulder and said, solemnly, "We shall always honor Dame Pansy of Parkinson, special friend to the court and their Majesties the King and Queen."

"Dame Pansy," she mused, "I like it."

"Um, Pansy, do you want me to talk to Gran about, um…"

"Neville, we're both eleven. Do we need to be having this conversation?"

Neville sat upright, "I told you, Pansy, I've got your back. I want Gran to ask about you, for a possible betrothal sometime in the future. That way she will, _by law_, have to be notified if anyone else offers."

Pansy blinked several times, lest she betray any wetness forming in her dark eyes. "You actually want to do that for me?"

Neville took both her hands in his and said, "I do."

Harry sighed, "And like the royals of old, it looks like we all have a sword over each of our heads, dangling by a thread."

"We'd better grow eyes in the back of _our_ heads."

The rest of the long trip passed in relative silence.

)O(

As always, many thanks to Tommy, whose brilliant Brit picking is, I'm sure responsible for the fact that Nargelites is my most popular story to date, based on the number of hits and reviews. I would also be remiss if I didn't thank all of you, who take the time to review after reading. Take a bow, you are the best.

Cheers!

N!


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Xenophilius smirked as he waited for Luna, Harry and the rest of the Merlins at Kings Cross station, along with Helen and Fredrick Granger.

_This_, he thought, _is going to be good!_

The Founder's Five stopped and stared, open mouthed. Hermione's parents stood on the platform in very nice, one would say _regal_ wizard's robes, purple velvet, trimmed with ermine. They were, in fact, the very picture of Royalty. Tall and aloof, pleased to be among the common witches and wizards, _and you are all so, so privileged to gaze upon our royal selves._

Following very proper bows and curtsies, hugs were exchanged all around. Luna's was no less enthusiastic, though she'd only been gone three days.

Harry formally introduced "Sir" Neville and "Dame" Pansy. The adults welcomed them into the extended family.

The Merlins went their separate ways, Hermione with her parents, Neville with his Nan, Pansy with the wide-eyed Parkinsons, and Harry and Luna with Xenophilius.

Once home, the children went to bed early, each saying, in their own way, "We've spent all day loading trunks and books and traveling and unloading and unpacking."

In fact, they were all hoping to meet in Dreamscape.

Sadly, Dreamscape was out of range. They evidently had to be at Hogwarts to share dreamtime - for now.

Luna woke Harry early the next day, so that, together they could clean the family room, and set up the altar for the evening's Yule Sabbat.

About an hour before sunset on the Winter's Solstice, Luna swept the area around the family altar clockwise. Yule symbols: Poinsettias, Pine Cones, and a decorated Yule Log added to the ambiance.

Xenophilius placed the gold God pillar candle at right top of altar. Luna set the white Goddess taper candle at the top left. Harry positioned a porcelain disk, adorned with a Pentagram, in the center of the altar. The cauldron, to the right of the altar, contained a black votive candle, wreathed by a sprig of holly. Luna used a silver plate to cover the cauldron. Harry set the green taper candle and mistletoe wreath behind the altar.

Xeno outlined a circle perimeter with eleven rune stones holding a twelfth rune in the palm of his left hand. The three mages sat quietly for a few minutes to ground and center. Luna smiled and touched a small music box that began to chime, 'This Endris Night.'

Father, then daughter, entered the circle, followed by Harry, who took the twelfth rune from Xeno and closed the charmed circle.

Coldfyre Flames of Yule colours: red, green, and gold, flared up between the stones. Dancing, flickering bright and multihued, yet icy cold to the touch. Xeno was a coldfyre master and could make the illusions of flames realistic or fanciful, indeed, one of his favorite pranks was to set someone alight with the harmless flame, then sit back and watch as others tried to extinguish the non-existent flames.

The Yule Ritual invokes the spirits of God and The Goddess, as well as The Elements. It is a happy sacrament to celebrate the turning of the year.

Their ritual concluded with Luna singing, "Awaken, my Lady,

"Awaken my Lady awake,

look upon your Child,

gentle and mild,

reborn, whilst a slumber you take.

subtle and hushed.

The Stag rushed,

the Green man,

Lord of the fertile,

forswears Thy denial

Gentle and benign."

She placed the white Goddess candle back in its holder at the left top of altar. Stepped back and assumed the Goddess position, hands raised, palms up, her face turned skyward. She nearly shouted, "All hail the Oak King, His rebirth; a promise All hail the Divine Child, Giver of Life All hail the Blessed Sun, reborn to the Mother for He retakes His throne at the end of Solstice Night!"

Xeno and Harry gave each other a manly embrace, each wishing nothing but harmony, love and happiness for the other.

Luna hugged her father, then Harry, bussing their cheeks as she did so, and repeated the Yule blessings.

Then came the cakes and spiced cider and songs. Luna was careful to take a small portion from each plate to leave for the "Wee Folkes."

The year before had been Harry's first Yuletide Sabbat, and he was surprised and delighted that the Lovegoods also celebrated Christmas. This year, on Christmas Morning, Harry and Luna received identical packages.

Opening them they found matching, light-grey hooded cloaks, softer than cashmere.

"Oh, Daddy, they're beautiful!"

"Try them on."

Harry went first and was shocked to see his body disappear beneath the fine wool, "I'm gone!"

"Daddy! You made these?"

"Well, I had some help… Molly Weasley lent me her magic spinning wheel and three sets of charmed knitting needles, and, um, Marissa, I mean, Healer Sessions came by for a couple of nights, I mean, _days_, when I couldn't figure out how to work the damn things… Anyway, she was very, um, obliging. Oh, yes, indeed. Very _obliging."_

For some reason, Xeno was getting redder by the minute.

He coughed and said, "Ahem, anyway, do you like them?"

Luna twirled hers above her head, then disappeared below it like a cheesy stage magician. Her disembodied voice sing songed, "Love it, love it, love it!"

Boxing day, the House of Merlin converged on the Longbottom Estate, where Augusta was let in on the 'Royal' prank. The matriarch did a classic spit-take with her tea, then laughed so hard she ended up in a coughing fit.

When she'd finally gotten control of herself, she sputtered out, "Oh yes, I can definitely use this in the Grande Dames' circle. By the time we're through, everyone will _know_ young Harold is Royalty of the first water, and that my grandson is very well positioned in the Court."

Pansy sniggered, "I let on, by way of my family's spheres of influence, that the Royal Family of Guyana is so reclusive, and so _exclusive_ that only someone truly worthy, and magically powerful could even know of their existence."

Hermione guffawed, "It's like _The Emperor's New Clothes_, only the worthy can see them!"

Xenophilius finally said, "Enough of plots and politics. It's Christmas, let's enjoy it!"

There were games and forfeits. A heroic snowball battle, followed by hot chocolate around the great fireplace.

Harry nodded to Xeno, who raised his wand like a maestro, conjuring fanfare from an invisible orchestra, as Harry wheeled a bright red Raleigh Roadster bicycle into the family room.

The Longbottom heir stood in awe, and a little trepidation.

"Hey, Neville, you've mastered a broom, this will be a breeze!"

Happily, the Longbottom Estates included three greenhouses with broad footpaths between tables laden with greenery. After a few wobbly starts, Neville got the hang of it. Soon he was zipping up and down the rows of tables.

Ruddy faced from exertion and excitement, Neville panted, "This is fun!"

He insisted everyone give it a go.

The girls demurred as they were in proper dresses for the holiday, until Xeno transfigured the bicycle into a 'step through' model.

"This _is_ fun!" Pansy screeched as she navigated the greenhouse footpaths.

Hermione sniggered, "We should start a house cycling team, that way we can tour the countryside on weekends off."

Harry smirked, "We'll be able to leave the school grounds next September, because we'll be third-year students."

The Grangers invited the Lovegoods and Harry over for a quiet New Year's Eve celebration.

The day before they were to go, Xenophilius sat down with his daughter.

"Sweetie, um, would you mind, terribly. That is, um, you know I'm all alone in that house most of the year and, uh, I mean, ah…"

"Daddy, are you asking me if you can bring a date?"

"No! I mean, well, um… Yes?"

Luna threw her arms around her father and hugged him tight, "It's okay, Daddy. I miss her too. But Mummy doesn't want you to be lonely, and neither do I."

Xenophilius breathed an audible sigh of relief.

"So," Luna leaned back, grinning mischievously, "Who is she, do I know her?"

"Well, um, yes. I mean of course you know her… And her."

"You have two girlfriends?" Luna asked, her grin practically splitting her face.

"Well, you see, I meet a lot of people, women, um, witches and it's been over two years and well…"

"Who, Daddy?"

"Well, Marisa, you know, Healer Sessions?"

"And who else?"

"Um," he looked sheepish, scratched the back of his head, and sighed, "Aurora."

"As in _Aurora Sinestra?"_

He nodded, "Um hum."

"So who are you going to take to the Grangers tomorrow?"

"Ah, well… both?"

Luna "squee-eed" and hugged her Daddy again.

The Grangers welcomed Xenophilius and his lady friends, Harry and Luna for dinner on New Year's Eve, then spent the evening catching up. Marissa was the only one who hadn't yet heard about Luna's advanced placement.

"Let me see if I understand this. You're starting Hogwarts this year as a second term _second year?"_

Everyone nodded.

"And what's this I hear about a _Prince Harold?"_

They nearly all doubled over laughing at that one.

Around nine in the evening Fredrick asked, "Would you like to watch a video? We have quite a few."

Harry and Luna both piped up, "Star Wars?"

Hermione brought out the boxed set, "All three of them."

The children plopped down on the floor before the screen. Xeno's dates, Marisa and Aurora bracketed him on the couch.

The witches and wizards cheered, during the climactic scene, when Obi-Wan's spirit told young Skywalker, "Use the Force, Luke."

Fredrick and Helen smiled at the grown wizards, for whom this was all as new as magic was to them.

Ten minutes to midnight, the Grangers paused the video to catch Big Ben tolling in the new year, and the ensuing fireworks.

As the world's most celebrated clock chimed the hour, Fredrick and Helen kissed, as did Xeno and Marisa and Aurora. Harry, Hermione and Luna copied the adults.

It was cute, and the grownups smiled at the innocent displays of affection, but, for the children, there was nothing magic about it.

Not this year, at least.

The following Sunday, the Founder's Five took up the last passenger compartment on the Hogwarts Express.

Hermione affixed her Prefect's badge to the front of her robes and excused herself, "I have to attend a meeting in the Head's compartment, up front."

Harry looked up from his second-year transfiguration text and asked, "Do you want me to go with you?"

"No, I'll be fine."

Three minutes later, Luna's signaling mirror buzzed. She opened it and heard, "…some kind of joke. What's a buck-toothed little firstie doing, wearing a badge?"

"As it happens, I'm a second year." Hermione said, her voice calm, "Now let me pass. I don't want to be late for the Prefect's meeting."

"I'm a third year, and I don't have to do anything _you_ tell me to."

"Will you let me pass?"

"No. Ask me nicely."

"I did. Now I'm telling you."

"Ooh, I'm scared. Ickle firstie Prefect is _telling_ me… Urk!"

Harry and Neville, followed closely by Pansy and Luna, had run up the passageway to find a brute of a boy stuck to the ceiling and Hermione putting her wand away. She turned and smiled as her 'backup' had arrived. "Levitation combined with a sticking charm. He'll be up there for, oh, I'd guess an hour or so."

Then, looking at the scrum of students that had formed in the aisle she asked, "Will you let me pass, please? I have a meeting to attend and some house points to deduct."

Those familiar with the story of Moses parting the Red Sea would have appreciated the allegory, as, even in the narrow railway car passageway, the crowd parted before her.

Harry asked, "Can Prefects deduct points?"

Pansy answered, "Prefects can recommend point deductions, which then have to be acted on by that Prefect's Head of House."

Harry smiled, "Oh I think any point deductions Hermione recommends will stand, after all," and he pointed up, "The git pretending to be a ceiling tile up there confronted a Prefect in front of several witnesses."

From overhead came a muffled cry, inarticulate, owing to the boy's face being stuck to the ceiling.

Pansy chuckled, then said, in a voice that carried to the surrounding compartments, "Oh, don't worry, Warrington, the spell will wear off. I just hope no one is directly below you when it does. Someone might get squished."

Cuthbert Warrington whimpered piteously.

Hermione returned to the compartment and smirked, "Some idiot in Slytherin put Warrington up to that. I think it was the Slytherin girl's Prefect. She seemed very put-out with me. I think she's lost a bet, as well as ten points from her house, even before the train arrives in Hogsmeade."

She passed a small, wrapped bundle to Harry, saying, "Here."

"What's this, then?"

"Open it."

Harry unwrapped his own Prefect's badge.

"Oh great, it's not as if I don't have enough to be getting on with."

"The Head Girl reminded Dumbledore that houses had to have two prefects, regardless of their size. We _were_ going to make the presentation at the returning feast, but, in light of Warrington's actions, we thought it best to give it to you now. Besides," she put both hands over her heart in an over-the-top theatrical swoon, "would you send me out to patrol those dark, scary hallways all by myself?"

"You're never by yourself at Hogwarts, Friar Mike is always near you, just like the Baron attends me."

Hermione pouted cutely, "You don't want to spend time with me?"

Luna shook her head, "I guess the honeymoon's over…"

"What honeymoon? We're not married!"

Luna pulled Hermione into a hug, "There, there, Your Grace. We shall console each other as His Highness is being a Royal pain."

Harry looked pleadingly at Pansy, "I'm never going to win with these two, am I?"

Pansy smiled, shook her head and said, "Nope. Best to learn that now while you're young and still trainable."

With a heavy sigh, he pinned the Prefect's badge to the front of his robes. "There. Happy?"

Hermione looked at Luna, then nodded. "Better, but you have to work more on your grovelling if this marriage is going to work."

Harry groaned as the girls laughed.

)O(

At Hogsmeade Station, they got off, then helped direct students, especially the first years, to the carriages.

Neville stopped and stared at what he could see pulling the coaches. "What are _those?"_

Luna took his hand and walked him over to the thestral, "Here, see? He's very gentle."

He reached out his hand to touch a leathery flank.

Harry, Hermione, and Pansy could only see Luna and Neville petting thin air.

Luna held out her hands to her best friends, "Come here. Feel this."

Harry and Hermione were dumbstruck as they touched the unseen animal. Both could feel the ridges and furrows of a massive ribcage under taut, thin skin.

"Invisible… what, horses?" Harry asked.

"No," Luna explained, "They're a little like horses, but they have great big wings folded along their backs."

Hermione was impressed, "Like Pegasus?"

"No, more like big bat's wings."

"Oh."

Pansy refused to touch the thestrals, citing her family's belief in their inherent bad luck.

They got into the carriage, Neville and Pansy on one side, Harry, flanked by Hermione and Luna on the other.

"So, how is it that you and Neville can see them?" Harry asked.

Luna looked up, eyes brimming with unshed tears, "To see one, you have to have seen someone die…"

In a moment of terrible clarity, Harry remembered what Xeno had told him about the horrible and tragic death of his wife. He cursed his own stupidity and pulled Luna into a fierce hug.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

Hermione leaned over and put a consoling hand on Luna's thin shoulder. She knew Luna had lost her mother, but hadn't been privy to any of the gory details.

Pansy was holding both Neville's hands, "You okay?"

He nodded, then said, "I was my Granddad. He and Nan were having one of their rows, and he suddenly, just, just stopped. He grabbed his arm and looked at me, and then at Nan, and said, "Uh oh," and… died."

Luna, sniffling on Harry's robes said, "It was my Mum. It was horrible."

Pansy said, "That's why people don't like thestrals. If you can see one, it means you saw someone die."

Luna sighed, "It's not their fault, and they're really useful, and sweet, and very intelligent. They're like post owls, they'll carry you anywhere, just hop on and say where."

Pansy snorted, "Like I'm going to get on a bloody great, invisible, bat-winged horse."

Hermione, rubbing Luna's back as she held Harry tight, caught Pansy's eye and nodded, "I can't think of any good reason why I'd want to."

Soon enough they were at the welcoming feast, enjoying their new status as second year students. Right up until the moment when Dumbledore singled them out for 'recognition.'

"And welcome to our newest second year students, including one who has never set foot in a first year's classroom, all at the Merlin's Table."

Grumbles of resentment ensued.

Until Professor Sinestra stood, and raised her goblet, "Owing to their willingness to work twice as hard as any five students I can name, and more than one professor. The praise is well earned, very well done, Merlin's House."

Spatters of polite applause, amid residual grumbling.

Filius Flitwick stood on his chair and added, "And the end of term exam marks were the highest I've seen, particularly for those students in the Charms club, yet another of their innovations."

Minerva McGonagall stood and raised her goblet for the stellar marks in the last terms transfiguration exams.

More applause, which stilled as Severus Snape stood.

"At this rate, members of the House of Merlin will be testing for their NEWTs by fifth year, and bringing as many as they can along with them."

Pomona Sprout stood and shouted, "Anyone willing to work hard enough, that is."

Laughter and cheers filled the halls.

Harry and company ducked their heads in embarrassment from the spontaneous accolades.

Albus Dumbledore smiled benignly, but inside was seething. His attempt to foment resentment against the Founder's House had backfired spectacularly. And how is it that Cuthbert Warrington, big strapping lad that he is, couldn't prevent the diminutive Miss Granger from attending her first Prefect's meeting? Her absence would have allowed him to, regretfully, reclaim her Prefect Badge and, quite possibly, re-sort the fifth house.

Now Mister Evans was a Prefect as well, yet another loophole he'd failed to close in time.

What's wrong with these people, don't they know that everything Albus Dumbledore does is for the Greater Good? Can't they realise, sacrifices have to be made?

It was time to look at his options.

Harry Potter is missing, presumed dead. Perhaps the minions of the Dark Lord shunted him off to another dimension? That would explain much.

Who else would satisfy the parameters of the prophecy?

Longbottom.

Neville Longbottom.

Not the chosen one, per se, but a possible emergency standby.

A spare.

Neville, enjoying his meal and the company of his best friends felt a sudden chill.

He looked up to the Head's table and saw Albus Dumbledore smiling down at him.

)O(

As the House of Merlin prepared for bed, and Dreamscape, Neville asked, "Did you see the way the Headmaster was staring at me all through dinner?"

The other's nodded.

"Should I be worried?"

Harry mused aloud, "If Dumbledore singles you out for something, I'd find somewhere else to be."

Luna had a room all to herself, but asked if she could share with Hermione for their first night back in the castle.

"No worries, come on, it's a big bed."

They were soon asleep, being greeted by the castle ghosts.

Lady Helena pulled Luna into a gentle hug, "Welcome, child, to Dreamscape. If you have any questions, we shall try to puzzle them out, together."

Luna luxuriated in the ghosts embrace, "So nice, so warm…"

To which the Lady Helena laughed, "Only in your dreams, little one!"

The five students and their attendant ghosts retired to the library.

Harry and Hermione were the first to see them.

"Lady Helena," Harry asked, pointing to a swirling mass of glowing motes orbiting a small crystal ball, "What are those?"

The ghost looked startled, "I don't know, my lord, I've never seen the like."

"Luna?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Are those…"

"Yes, Harry. Those are Nargelites."

Hermione was speechless, then disappeared from the Dreamscape library as she woke up.

_Which,_ she decided, _must be the equivalent of fainting in the waking world._

She was so excited by what she'd seen, she had trouble relaxing enough to get back to sleep, and back to her friends. Finally, after what seemed like an age, she reappeared in the dream library.

Harry and Luna were coaxing the golden motes to swirl clockwise, then counter-clockwise around the crystal globe.

Neville put his hand into the swirling cloud, but the motes flowed around or passed through his fingers a little like smoke and a little like water.

Pansy allowed that they were pretty, but didn't see the practicality of them.

Neville smiled and said, "Pansy, luv, if you can see them, you can see magic."

She beamed at the endearment, and, in doing so, attracted some of the glowing motes to herself.

"They seem to like happy thoughts." Hermione observed.

Pansy frowned, and lost her attendant specks of light, "But, Luna can see them in the waking world, we can only see them in dreamscape."

Luna smiled, "For now."

)O(

Defense Against the Dark Arts was, indeed, more practical for second year students. There was an equal emphasis on theory and practice. There was duelling practice, but second year students were limited to simple disarming and basic shielding spells.

The older second years were, at first, reluctant to hex the tiny Merlins, but having a petite blonde hand you your arse in a duel was all it took for the gloves to come off. The Merlins were quick, and precise.

Stanley Biggs, second year Hufflepuff, decided that he'd had enough for one day and sent a surreptitious binding hex at Pansy's back as she was duelling Marietta Edgecombe.

Apparently, Stanley missed the memo, concerning the Merlins.

Mister Biggs found himself doing a ceiling tile imitation thirty feet up. His muffled screams stopped the other duels in progress.

"Muh, Miss Granger! Puh, Please release Muh, Mister Buh, Biggs."

"Certainly, Professor, as soon as you remove five House points from Hufflepuff for conduct unbecoming a 'Puff."

There were several intakes of breath. In a House known for cooperation and fair play to be charged with 'conduct unbecoming' was tantamount to a scarlet letter.

"Buh, But I duh, didn't see him, duh, do anything!"

Hermione tapped her copper badge, "_I_ saw him, Professor Quirrell."

Harry stood by his housemate, as did Luna and Neville, who first undid the binding hex and helped Pansy to her feet.

"Very well, fuh, five puh, points from Hufflepuff."

Hermione didn't bother to look up, she simply pointed her wand skyward and whispered, "Fin-ee-tay," stretching out the syllables as she did.

Biggs screamed as he fell to the stone floor, stopping mere millimetres short of serious injury.

Harry smirked, "How did you know I'd cast a silent cushioning charm?"

Hermione answered, loud enough to be heard by the students standing near, "I didn't."

The message was loud and clear.

Do _not_ mess with a Merlin.

Walking into the hall after class, Harry looked back as his housemates and said, "All set for tonight?"

He was answered by four grim smiles.

)O(

Albus looked over the student tables and smiled, a benign Sovereign in his own little Kingdom. Everything and everyone where they're supposed to be.

So why were they all suddenly screaming?

Everyone in the Great Hall was staring and pointing at the Professor's table, specifically at Quirrell, who's turban was now a brightly blazing torch. To which Quirinus was completely oblivious.

Dumbledore saw the flames, smelled the unmistakable odour of burnt hair and did the only thing he could think of at the moment.

Pointing his wand, he shouted, "_inundantia____maxima!"_

Those muggle children familiar with a wide open fire hose would have recognized the torrent of water that pummelled Professor Quirrell, knocking him sideways and back from the table.

Sputtering, he rose and screamed, "Are you insane, Old Man? You could have killed us!"

He doubled over in pain and the screaming renewed, not because Quirrell's turban was on fire, said turban was plastered wetly against the far wall.

No, the children were screaming because there was a face; ugly and reptilian, with slits for nostrils and bright red eyes, sticking out of the back of Quirrell's head.

"Merlin's beard!"

"Stop him, stun him!"

"Get the children out!"

The one table where there was no panicked screaming was Merlin's table, and it was to this island of calm that Quirrellmort directed his gaze, "Why can't I read you?" the reptilian face screeched, "I can read all those around you, but I can't read you! You did this, didn't you?"

Harry shouted, "Stupefy and incarcerous on three, two, one… _Stupefy, incarcerous!"_

But Voldemort wouldn't be so easily caught.

Quirrell, unconscious and bound by thick ropes, slumped face-first onto the table.

A menacing buzz filled the room, increasing in volume and pitch until it was almost physically painful. Then stopped.

The ominous silence that followed was shattered when the back of Quirrell's head exploded blood and puss and a sickly yellowish fluid.

Voldemort exorcised himself from his host.

A floating, disembodied brain hovered above the staff table, trailing fibrous ribbons that must have been, at one time, blood vessels and nerve tissue.

Luna screamed, "Don't let any part of him touch you!"

The brain bobbed toward Aurora Sinestra, who fired off cutting hexes, to no avail.

The brain still came.

Dumbledore reached for his wand, but whatever he'd planned wouldn't be fast enough.

Hermione cried, "Harry, no!"

Eleven year old Harold Evans had jumped onto his House table, then onto the professors raised platform when Luna screamed. He smiled grimly at his Housemates, half-turned, and did a flying tackle over the staff table, knocking Professor Sinestra down just as the gory tendrils would have touched her.

Instead, they touched Harry.

The side of his face, the back of his neck, his forearms and hands.

Where the tendrils touched him they sizzled and crackled and burst into flames.

Harry took a few burns, but the thing that had been Voldemort flared up, then blazed like a torch.

There was something eerily reassuring about an unholy terror screaming in unholy terror.

Harry looked away from the retreating, flaming obscenity, then regarded his left arm.

"Huh," he heard himself say, "Is it supposed to bend that way?"

Just before he blacked out.

)O(

Big shout-out to Tommy King, Brit-picker extraordinaire, who volunteers his valuable time to give this story an authentic British voice.

Cheers, mate!

I wrote about three pages describing a Wiccan Yule Sabbat, then realized that, as beautiful as it is to experience, to read about it? Not so much. I attend a Midnight Mass every Christmas Eve, and love the ceremony and the beautiful music, but to write a description about it? No, not something I'd like to read. If you would like to learn the whole, detailed ritual, go to www dot wicca dot com.

I have Neville referring to his grandmother as Nan, something British kids are known to call their grandmothers. I know, I know, it's Gran in the books. But hey, this is fanfiction, and I like how Nan sounds, also, this is yet another way in which my first/second year Neville is different from the one in canon.

Oh and a cyber cookie goes out to Dericof Diname who recognized Voldie's floaty brainy form as a cognivore from my story, Battered Hearts.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Harry woke in an unfamiliar bed. Blinking at what he supposed was morning light.

He felt and saw Luna sitting on the narrow mattress to his left, and Hermione to his right. Neville and Pansy stood behind Luna, Professor Sinestra and Professor McGonagall behind Hermione.

Madame Pomfrey bustled and bullied her way to the sickbed, "Oh, do stand aside and let me work, shoo, shoo!"

"Don't you 'shoo' me, Poppy Pomfrey."

"You may be Headmistress, but, you're in _my_ domain now. Now, shoo!"

Of course, neither Hermione nor Luna would be shooed past the chairs beside Harry's bed.

"Fine, then, just don't get in the way."

Harry looked around Hermione at Professor McGonagall, "Headmistress?"

"Yes, Mister Evans, you needn't sound so surprised. Headmaster Dumbledore is, ah, taking a well deserved rest."

Luna asked the question that was on everyone's mind, "That was Voldemort, wasn't it?"

The Headmistress nodded, "Yes, I'm afraid so. It would appear that this is the second time a relation of Lily Evans has killed him."

"But, I didn't do anything, I just didn't want that thing to get Professor Sinestra."

Aurora said, "There's something about you that he, or rather, _it_, couldn't bear to touch. Where it touched your skin, it burned…"

Harry touched the tender parts of his face and neck where igniting tendrils had touched him.

"There will be very little scarring, just a slight discoloration of the skin, Mister Evans."

"Thanks, Healer Pomfrey. Odd thing about burns, they feel like they're still burning even after the fire's out."

Poppy nodded, then asked, "Any pain?"

Harry shook his head, "More like a dull throb. What happened to the floaty, brainy thing?"

Professor Sinestra repeated, "It caught fire."

"And the sheathes that surround nerves, indeed, the whole brain, is just so much tallow."

Neville spoke up, "It went out like a flaming comet, Harry, the smell of burning fat was enough to put a bloke off chips for a year."

"So, he's gone… for good?"

Minerva looked thoughtful, then resolved, "Am' nae richt share he's deid"

Poppy declared Mister Evans well enough to be discharged from her care.

He hopped down off the bed and said, "A comfortable bed, Healer Pomfrey, but I don't think I'll be back anytime in the foreseeable future."

As the Merlins were leaving, the Headmistress remarked, "Odd thing about Professor Quirrell's turban. It was blazing bright, but no one near it was burned, or felt any heat, come to that."

Hermione raised both eyebrows and asked, "Really? Sounds like coldfyre."

"And there was a tight braid of what looked like cat hair, smouldering at the Headmaster's feet."

Harry looked pensive, "Someone wanted the Headmaster to believe that Professor Quirrell was on fire."

Minerva concluded, "Or someone suspected there was something beneath Quirrell's turban, and wanted it exposed publicly."

Pansy asked, "Headmistress, how is it that a powerful, magical being, like Voldemort, could go undetected here at Hogwarts for months? Someone must have suspected."

Minerva half-smiled, "Apparently someone knew _something_, or we would still be blissfully ignorant of the threat among us."

"What will happen to the Headmaster?" Neville asked.

"He's been ordered, by the Board of Governors, to 'take a holiday,' and while he's at it, to submit to a complete examination. If, after that, he is deemed fit, he will resume the post of Headmaster."

"And if he's not?"

Minerva gave a Gaelic shrug.

The students left and Minerva turned to Poppy, "Schedule complete examinations for all staff members, immediately. From now on, anyone wishing to teach at Hogwarts must pass a full physical, mental and magical examination, annually."

"Excellent idea, Headmistress, hop up on the table."

"What, now?"

"Yes, now. I'm just carrying out the orders of my superior. On the table. Up. Now!"

With a sigh, Minerva submitted to the tender care of the School Healer.

At the end of the day all the professors, the caretaker, Argus Filch, and the Groundskeeper, Rubeus Hagrid, were all given a clean bill of health.

Much to Poppy's surprise, Albus Dumbledore came last. His expression was dark as he said, "I begged the Board of Governors for the courtesy of having you conduct this travesty." He shook himself, and sighed, "Forgive me, Madame Pomfrey, I'm not angry with you."

The healer smiled and said, "You _have_ been avoiding me these past few years, Headmaster."

The man nodded, and Poppy couldn't help but think, "I've never seen him looking so _old."_

At the end of the examination, she called for Minerva.

The Headmistress was as surprised as Poppy to see Albus Dumbledore in the Hospital wing. The old Headmaster was looking very… subdued.

Without waiting for any distracting greetings or pleasantries, the Healer said, "We need to talk."

She looked sternly at Dumbledore. "First off, Albus, how long have you known?"

"I suspected that my… reasoning, wasn't what it once was ten years ago."

"And that's when you started self-potioning?"

The old man nodded, "It helped, for a while. For a fair, few years."

Poppy turned to Minerva, "Professor Dumbledore is suffering from Senile Dementia, he can no longer be expected to head a school. He may be well enough, for a time, to teach - four or five years, perhaps. But his condition, from now on, will need to be reviewed every six months."

Albus smiled wryly, "This year, I could teach Potions or Runes, but not after next year. Indeed, as my capacity diminishes, I can see myself, in twenty more years, as the Keeper of Keys and Grounds."

The horror of Dumbledore's condition was driven home as the old man sobbed, "I may have done more damage already than can be undone. I simply don't know what I don't know."

And it all became clear. Leaving the Potters, as bait, for Voldemort to find. Packing Harry off to his murderous relatives. Bringing the Philosopher's Stone to the Castle, again, as bait for Voldemort. Foisting more and more of the responsibilities for running the premier magical academy in the United Kingdom on his Deputy.

And worse, doubting more and more, every day, if he were making the right choices, if he could make the right choices for… _everyone!_

Minerva put her arm around her old mentor, "You will finish this year as Headmaster, just be sure to continue leaving all the decision-making to me. We will inform the Board of Governors, who will, I'm sure, agree to allow you to retire, gracefully, as Headmaster, and, perhaps, continue in some advisory capacity.

Grateful tears streaming down his whiskered face, Albus Dumbledore nodded.

Poppy prescribed a cheering draught, which she shared as a libation with her two senior-most patients and friends.

"To our continued good health!" she said, as they downed their drafts.

"Now, where to find a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Minerva mused aloud.

"Contact Amelia Bones, find out of any of their Senior Aurors are on the sick or injured list. The other professors can take turns teaching the class until a suitable replacement can be found."

Minerva beamed, and Albus did too as he chuckled, "Not bad for an old man with diminished capacities, eh?"

Poppy said, "You'll have good days, and bad. You should view most of your behaviour, decisions and actions from the past few years as suspect."

Dumbledore thought hard, then opened his eyes wide, "I have to contact Nicholas, Nicholas Flamel. I have to tell him…"

Minerva laid an calming hand on the Headmaster's shoulder, "I'll see if he and his wife, Perenelle can join us for dinner."

"Very well," he said, nodding, "I think a short nap may be just the thing…"

The witches watched as Albus Dumbledore, looking all of his 148 years, shuffled out of the hospital wing.

"He was a great and a good man, once." Poppy said, "That's how he should be remembered."

"Aye," Minerva agreed, "indeed."

)O(

Neville accepted the thick envelope and thanked the delivery owl. "Be sure to stop by the owlery for food and water before you go."

The bird bobbed his head once, squawked, then whistled before flying off.

Pansy, ever at his side, looked at the envelope. "Aren't you going to open it?"

"It's from Nan, I think I know what it's about."

"Well, I don't!"

With a chuckle, he untied the twine binding the thick parchment envelope and removed the top-most document, "Um-hum, document with intent… Tendering suit of Marriage… Ancient and noble lineage… Puh, Pah, what?"

Neville had gone pale.

"Am I that bad?" Pansy asked in mock exasperation.

He barely whispered, "It's not from your family."

"What?"

"It's from the Patils." He handed her the documents.

…_with our most fervent wishes that this will redeem current and future claims upon the life debt owed on the occasion of the evening of the 31st of October, Nineteen Hundred and Ninety One._

"But I didn't do anything," he groused, "You and Hermione iced the floor, Harry and I both brought the troll down with a summoning charm…"

Pansy finished the thought, "But you went into the bathroom and brought her safely out."

"Because Harry told me to! He was busy spinning the damn troll!"

By now all eyes in the great hall were on Neville, as his volume had increased with his growing incredulity.

"Never the less, you went in, and you brought her safely out. I'm sure that, in her eyes at least, you are the real hero."

Neville pounded his forehead on the table in front of him, "But I don't want to marry Parvati." In a small voice he said, "I, I want to marry you."

Pansy's eyes grew wide as saucers.

"Not today, mind you, but, eventually. I want my betrothal contract to be with you."

Pansy did something that she'd never done before in her life, she pulled Neville into a tight hug, laid his head on her shoulder and sobbed, "…me too…"

Not releasing Pansy from their mutual embrace, Neville asked, "What do we do about Parvati?"

"We'll read over the contract, if there's another way to satisfy the life debt, then we'll do that. And just because someone else wants you to marry, doesn't mean you have to, you know, marry."

They ended their embrace, and Pansy began to pour over the parchments, "This is not a contract, it's a statement of intent, similar to the one you sent my father a few days ago. Your grandmother hasn't signed it, she sent it on to you for your consideration. That's all."

He slumped in relief. "So, we have time?"

"At least six years." Pansy said with a smile.

Neville let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding, then looked down at the table, and said, "Alright, pudding!"

Pansy shook her head at the abrupt change of topic, and mood, then thought, _he's eleven, of course he'll be distracted by a pudding. Ooh, treacle!_

Neville and Pansy had a celebratory treacle pudding and agreed it was the best ever.

)O(

The Goblin Seneck poured over the documents spread out on the desk before him. 'Red flags' had popped up here and there. Arguably, moneys taken for the care and feeding of the Potter Scion were legitimate, if somewhat excessive. Most paid to one Petunia Dursley. It might be interesting to have his human counterparts at Barclays in Little Whinging do an additional audit.

"Humph," he groused, "How many invisibility cloaks does this family have? Great Grandfather John Harold Potter had one, Grandfather Harold, Father James… No, that's not right. Even the finest demiguise weave loses its light bending ability after thirty years, and this… By the Blessed Matriarch!"

The Seneck rang for his clerk, "List all significant ancestors, patriarchal and matriarchal in the last thousand years."

The clerk, reciting from memory, started with Harry, and gave a millennium's worth from the patriarchal line. When he got to Peverell, Ignotius, the Seneck said, "That will be all."

So, the old story is true, and one of the Hallows is the property of our most favoured client.

The Goblin Seneck recalled his clerk, "Order a trace on lot six, item fifty-seven, one invisibility cloak, a Potter Family heirloom. Find who has it, repossess it on behalf of our client."

The diminutive clerk bobbed once then vanished.

)O(

Classes continued, Professor Lupin welcomed the Merlins into second year, second term History of Magic, and smiled. "You lot knew there would be a research assignment in second year, didn't you? I was about to announce the research topics for second term, but I daresay you're well nigh done. Am I right?"

"Almost, Professor, we have several points to go over with you during office hours."

Harry handed Remus a tightly wound scroll so thick that it resembled nothing less than a tree branch.

The professor's eyes widened, "Is this the whole thesis?"

Harry shook his head, "No, sir. Only my contributions to date. Hermione's is twice as thick and her writing is much smaller, and neater, than mine."

Feeling the weight of the research in his hand, all Remus could think was, _There go my next five weekends._

"I'll start on yours this Saturday, Mister Evans, then tackle Miss Grangers."

Harry smiled, it would be nice to have an outsider, an independent observer to go over their research. If he came to the same, or even similar conclusions, then they might begin to change the water.

)O(

Change the Water.

The night before, in Dreamscape, Luna set three small cauldrons to boiling. Into one boiling pot, she placed three peeled potatoes, into another, three eggs, and into the third she put three teaspoons full of Earl Grey.

She covered the cauldrons and removed them from the heat.

Fifteen minutes later she removed the lids and called her friends over to see.

In the first pot, where the potatoes had gone, there was a mishmash of crumbling potato.

"The potatoes went in firm, rigid. But under heat and pressure, fell apart."

Luna removed the second lid.

"The eggs, which had been fragile are now hard, fixed into a single shape, one that conforms to the still fragile shell."

Removing the third lid she ladled its contents into five teacups.

"Do you see?"

Hermione saw it first, then Pansy. Harry and Neville looked at each other, "It's tea." Harry said.

Luna squealed happily, "Exactly!"

Neville still looked lost, but then got it the same time as Harry.

"It changed the water!" both boys nearly shouted together.

Luna concluded, "Something awful is coming, something horrific. We can either fall apart, retreat into our pathetic little shells, or…"

"We can change the water."

Hermione added, "We must be the catalyst for change and what we have to change is, well, basically, everything."

Luna nodded, "Either that, or move to an island someplace and watch our way of life implode from afar."

Harry shook his head, "No. This is my home. Hogwarts, Britain, even Little Whinging.

"This is my family." He took Luna and Hermione's hands, then nodded to Neville and Pansy, "All of you, and I'm not running away from that, not now, not ever."

)O(

In a dark chamber, foreboding and dank, a frightened woman stood in the center of a circle of twelve cloaked and hooded figures.

As one, the twelve intoned, "Prophesize."

"I, I can't. I don't have the gift," the woman was sobbing now, "I've tried all my life, studied cards and tea and crystals and none of it works, not for me." She looked up, anger in her eyes, magnified as they were by thick glass lenses, "You want my grandmother, Cassandra, but she's gone, and with her, the sight."

Lower now, but somehow, more menacing from the lack of volume, "Prophesize!"

Sybil Trelawney crumpled to a heap of beads and shawls, her bony shoulders jerking as she sobbed louder.

"Prophesize!"

Sybil stilled. Then stood, tall and strong. Her voice became a chorus of the voices of all the seers in her blood. She pointed an accusatory finger at the witches and wizards encircling her.

"The wheel is, even now, known to them, those who can see it, can use it. The least shall become the greatest and the greatest shall go to ground. The rising and falling shall cease, and everyone who has driven the wheel shall be ground beneath its weight. The Wheel is known to them, those who can use it."

Trelawney's eyes burned with sanctimonious fervour, then dimmed. She seemed to shrink as her shoulders stooped.

"I, I beg your pardon, who are you, and where am I? How did I get here?"

"Thank goodness we've found you. You're fine, Cousin Sybil, you are among friends, you got lost, gave us a a fright. Come, let me help you find your way home, oh, before I forget… Obliviate!"

)O(

The next morning, as Luna and Hermione rose, dressed and were preparing for their day, Hermione called, "Brother Michael?"

The Corpulent Friar, never far away, phased through the ceiling, "Yes, My Lady Hufflepuff?"

"Friar, why can we only visit Dreamscape when we're here, at Hogwarts?"

The girls entered House Merlin's common room to find Harry, Neville and Pansy waiting for them.

Brother Michael, following along with them, continued, "The simple answer is that you can find Dreamscape anywhere, but you can only find each other, and, of course," the other three spirits joined the Merlins in their discussion, "all of us, in Dreamscape while at Hogwarts."

Luna smiled, then asked, "Brother, what if one of you were to accompany us home, say, for the summer holiday?"

Friar Michael looked pensive, "It would have to be a spirit free enough to leave the grounds, most of us are bound to Hogwarts and its environs."

Helena said, "I know of one, who might be willing. If nothing else, it would be an interesting experiment. I'll inquire while you are all in class today, we should have an answer by the end of this week."

The morning began with Potions Class, Luna was thrilled to have her first lesson with a Potions Master and Severus found himself caught up in her infectious enthusiasm.

"Class," he began, and the students, a combined Gryffindor / Slytherin class sat attentively. "We are indeed fortunate that the House of Merlin has joined us this term. Do not be fooled by their size or apparent age. In first term The House of Merlin produced, independent of class, some of the most demanding of potions.

"While this class was struggling to produce a single acceptable calming potion, Miss Lovegood, aided by Mister Evans and Miss Parkinson brewed medicinal quality Draught of Living Death."

He looked around the room, "Who can tell me a single application for such a draught?"

Professor Snape didn't even look at the front row where he knew the Potions Masters in Training would be, "Someone outside the House of Merlin?"

He regarded his star pupils, "Well, it appears we have our work cut out for us this term."

A beefy hand went up in the back of the room, "Sir?"

"Yes, Thompson?"

"Sir, the Draught of Living Death can be used to induce a 'healing coma.' So that people can stay unconscious while serious injuries are being treated."

"Very good, Thompson, take five points for Slytherin."

Severus regarded the room at large, "A glimmer of hope, at last."

The class reviewed the calming potion from the previous term, and, as the practical lab began, Hermione noticed that a scrum formed around the reagent's cupboard. She also saw that, when the students went back to their tables, many had greater quantities of essence of chamomile or lotus extract than needed. Leaving others with less than adequate materials.

Each student had their own cauldron, but gas burners were in short supply, so that most tables only had one. Having to share a single burner meant that potions could not get consistent heat when necessary.

Every student had his or her book open and was trying to read directions while chopping or pouring or stirring.

Ten minutes prior to dismissal, another scrum formed at the back tables and cupboards as reagents and materials were shoved back into place. Some not so good natured shoving was also taking place between Gryffindors and Slytherins.

At the end of class, Harry spoke for the Merlins. "First, the students in this class see everything as a competition, who gets the most, first. That sort of nonsense."

Hermione stepped forward, "In a gourmet restaurant, there are different people with different responsibilities, prep chefs who slice and dice and portion out ingredients."

Neville spoke up, "Gas burners are in short supply, I'll write my Nan, she's on the Board of Governors, we'll have enough burners by the end of this week."

Luna said, "I know a simple duplicating charm, that will allow the other students to copy pages from their potion's book, that way they only need have a single sheet of parchment at each table with the instructions for whatever they're brewing on any given day."

"Miss Granger," Severus asked, "can I impose on you to write up a rotating schedule for, what did you call them, 'prep chefs?' I would suggest having one from each house."

Hermione nodded, "I'll have a rota ready before Thursday's class, sir."

"Excellent, take five points for House Merlin… Each."

They all chorused, "Thank you, sir."

"Oh, I have no doubt but that you'll earn every point. Now, off you go, can't be late for the Headmistress' class, can we?"

At the end of the day the Merlins reconvened in the potions lab.

Hermione took up where she'd left off at the end of the previous term, "We've rendered the ingredients for Polyjuice Potion, now the tricky part, twenty-eight reductions over twenty-eight nights, corresponding with the phases of the moon. Should be easy for you, Luna."

Luna grinned, "At least you didn't say Looney."

Harry pulled Luna into a one armed hug, "That'll never happen."

A ghostly, silver-grey Scottish Terrier came in through the transit over the dungeon door and spoke in Minerva McGonagall's voice, "I've received a package for you, Professor Snape, perhaps you could get it out of my office?"

"Of course, Professor McGonagall, can you have a house elf deliver it to the Potion's Lab? We're in the middle of a reduction at the moment."

"Very well."

Thirty seconds later, the dungeon door opened and a large crate seemed to bob on its own through the door into the middle of the room. A tiny voice asked, "Where will the Professor be wanting his crate, sir?"

"Right there will be fine, thank you."

A cheerful voice answered, "Always happy to help, sir!"

Severus looked at the crate, "Mister Longbottom, would you mind terribly opening the crate? I suspect it's from your grandmother."

Sure enough, there were enough burners and accessories to last for countless terms to come.

"I'll watch the reduction if you will all please set out the new equipment."

The five Merlins did as asked, checking the old burners for wear and tear, binning the ones that were beyond repair.

When all the new equipment was in place, Hermione and Luna set up two tables between the supply cupboards and the class.

"This is where the student helpers will measure out and distribute ingredients for the lab of the day. I've taken the liberty to reproduce lists of materials needed for all the labs over the next two months."

Severus Snape half smiled and nodded, "Excellent, I think all the Potions Labs will be much more efficient from now on. Take an additional twenty points for House Merlin."

By the end of the following day, the school was abuzz with news of the changes in Professor Snape's class.

"He's practically human."

"Maybe someone got into the polyjuice, and it's not really him?"

"He awarded points to a House other than Slytherin, not only that, he docked Nott for a safety violation… His own House!"

At the Professors' table, Minerva commented, "You seem to be in fine fettle t'dae, Severus."

"I am," he said, "I had all but forgotten what it was like to teach a group of students who genuinely want to learn, more than that, to stretch themselves to achieve more."

"Careful, Severus," Remus said from his other side, "You almost smiled just now."

Professor Snape looked askance at Lupin and rolled his eyes, "Heaven forbid."

Thursday's class was one for the record books.

As the group entered, Thompson, from Slytherin and Bell, a Gryffindor, were singled out for prep-duty. Imagine their surprise when it was revealed that Thompson would be measuring and distributing reagents for the Gryffindors and Bell would be serving the Slytherins.

During the lecture period, Hermione took notes for Thompson and Pansy took notes for Bell.

The end result was, when lab period commenced, it was neat, orderly and efficient.

The proof, as they say, is in the pudding. And, for the first time in this school year, every second year student got a passing grade on their potion.

Cleanup went as smoothly as setup.

Professor Snape stood up, just prior to dismissal. "At the end of the day, ladies and gentlemen, cooperation is the key. Well done, well done all of you."

Luna looked around at her Housemates, "I'm not sure, but I think we've begun to change the water."

Harry nodded, "It's a start."

)O(

Sirius Orion Black loved his monogram. Shirts, cufflinks, towels, handkerchiefs, all proudly proclaimed him to be a genuine S O B.

"If you knew my mother, you'd understand." He would say when asked.

The fact that his animagus form was a dog only made it more appropriate.

This day found him before the Geezergamot, ah, _Wizengamot_, putting forth a proposal for Harry James Potter Memorial Day.

Normally, following first and second reading of the proposed Bill, there would be debate.

No one offered anything but their most enthusiastic endorsement for a day that would honour the Saviour of the Wizarding World. The only point of contention was the choice of days. There were those who wanted to celebrate Harry Potter Day on the Thirty-first of October, but many thought his remembrance would be diminished during the Sabbat of Samhain. So it was agreed to put the Thirty-first of July as HP day.

The Harry Potter Memorial Day Bill was passed unanimously, to be delivered to Her Royal Majesty for Her approval.

"Any good that we can do, from now on, let us do so in the sure and certain knowledge that my Godson would be proud of us."

)O(

The Cabal; nine wizards and three witches, smiled when they heard the speech.

"How eloquent, he is. We must consider him for Chief Warlock in the future, for he has effectively created a martyr for the cause without realizing it. Harry Potter, the pure and perfect sacrifice, struck down by the very muggles he had saved. Oh this is too ironic for words."

)O(

Thanks go out, as always, to Tommy King, Brit-picker emeritus. Whenever Minerva McGonagall becomes emotional, her Scottish Brogue comes to the fore.

So I offer this translation: "Am' nae richt share he's deid" means, "I'm not rightly sure he's dead."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Lady Helena led a teenage girl, perhaps fifteen years old, into the Dreamscape Library. Pale and wan, she wore her long, dark hair in tight pigtails. Her red-rimmed eyes looked as though she'd been crying – for _ages._

Luna introduced herself and the others in the room, then paused, waiting for the girl to say something.

"And you are?" Pansy prompted.

"Malone, Myrtle Malone, fifth year Ravenclaw. Well, I was… In Nineteen Forty-two. I'd just finished my O W Ls when Olive Hornsby teased me about my glasses, in front of _everybody_. I ran into the Second-floor girl's loo and… Died."

Myrtle began to sob, but Helena's soothing voice calmed her, "There, there, child, you're among friends here, you know Sir Nicholas, and Friar Michael, and me, of course."

The ghost girl sniffed and nodded.

"And I know you're not frightened by the Baron."

Myrtle shook her head, "No. I used to be, but not anymore. He's been very kind."

Helena continued, "Remember what we talked about, earlier this week?"

Myrtle looked around, spied Luna, and very timidly asked, "So, you're Luna?"

The girl in question smiled and nodded, "I am. Pleased to meet you, Myrtle. Will you be my spirit companion?"

The ghost, corporeal in Dreamscape, as were all ghosts, shrugged. "If you really want me. I'm not clever and beautiful like The Lady Helena, or brave and true like Sir Nicholas and the Baron, or even as smart as Friar Michael."

Luna held out both her hands, "None of these qualities are required for us to be friends, are they?"

Myrtle's eyes filled with tears again, but the broad smile let everyone see that they were, for the first time in her afterlife, tears of joy. Taking both Luna's hands in hers, Myrtle said, "I would be happy and proud to be your spirit companion for as long as you'll have me."

"That could be a very long time, Lady Myrtle."

"Oh, I'm just plain Myrtle, or Miss Myrtle on special occasions. I have all the time in the world, Lady Luna, Daughter of the Moon."

As an aside to the other Merlins, Helena said, "I told Myrtle that Luna's mother was named after Selene, Goddess of the Moon."

The Baron said, "Miss Myrtle is one of a very few of us who can leave the castle and grounds."

"It's true," the ghost girl said, "I can go wherever water flows, and that makes precious few places forbidden to me."

Luna clapped her hands gleefully, "Then you must come home with Harry and me over the summer holiday, I insist!"

Pansy and Luna took Myrtle into the bathroom and helped her wash decade's worth of tears from her face and blouse. Pansy took down her pigtails and brushed, then combed her hair. When they returned to the Library she looked like a new person.

Her waist-length, coal-black hair stood in stark contrast to her white skin. She, in fact, cleaned up nicely.

Brother Michael explained the role of spirit companions, how they were to help the members of Merlin's House during Dreamtime, and to watch over their charges during waking hours. "There are people who would harm them, and we can summon help should anyone need it."

"But I've been watching," Myrtle said, confused, "And everybody loves the Merlins, or, at least, everyone respects them."

Sir Nicholas shook his head, "Sad to say, some are jealous, and others are under the influence of people outside these castle walls."

Myrtle's eyes narrowed, "Well they'd better not bother our Merlins, not while I'm anywhere near water. And I'm _always_ near water."

)O(

At a back table in the Main Library, three people huddled over a small mirror.

"I don't like this, Mister Malfoy, the Merlins are powerful beyond their years. They are very popular here, and are said to have influential friends."

Draco sniffed, "We're not asking you to hurt anyone, simply get one of the girls alone, but not Lady Granger. Parkinson or Lovegood should be easy to isolate. One of you can stun the girl; the other can give her the veritaserum, then ask the questions. Once that's done, obliviate the girl. You can perform a simple obliviation, can't you?

The Seventh Year Ravenclaw sniffed, "Of course."

From the mirror, a cultured voice drawled, "Do this, and your family's debts will be forgiven."

"What if we're caught?"

"Then this conversation never took place, and your family can kiss their ancestral lands goodbye."

The two Ravenclaws, brother and sister, nodded and left, taking the small, clear bottle with them.

)O(

Pansy left Hermione and Luna in the Hogwarts Library for her evening stroll with Neville. The weather was unseasonably warm for March, and they both liked to walk near the shores of Black Lake in the late afternoon just before dinner. As she made her way down the cobblestones she had a thought, "Lady Helena?"

"Yes, Lady Pansy?"

"I've noticed that the skills we develop in Dreamscape carry over to the waking world."

"'Tis true, Lady Pansy. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I've always been afraid of the water. I can't swim. Neither can Neville or any pureblood I know. On the other hand, nearly all the muggleborns do swim; most have had lessons, some, like Hermione even have pools for swimming at home."

Lady Ravenclaw's ghost looked thoughtful, "What brought this about, Lady Pansy?"

"Well, Neville likes the water so much, but I'm afraid of it. I nearly died when we had to ride in those tiny boats at the beginning of First Term. And he's asked me to picnic with him on Green Island."

"The moss-covered rock in the middle of Black Lake?"

"The very same, my Lady. He was disappointed when I said no."

"You go on to the lake with your betrothed," the ghost smiled at Pansy's reddening cheeks, "I'll see if there isn't a pool we can use in dreamscape."

Pansy had to leave Lady Helena at the end of the walkway, as the Ravenclaw Ghost was bound to the castle proper. Neville was there presumably with Sir Nicholas, who had the run of the grounds as well as the castle. Presumably, because Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington was the soul of discretion and only appeared when called.

Neville and Pansy walked along the pea-gravel shore, hand in hand, and talked about everything and nothing. Already the best of friends, comfortable with each other.

Harry met his girlfriends in the library. He sat in the empty chair between them and said, "Sorry I'm late, I had to get the stinksap out of my hair and clothes. I must have shampooed four times." He pulled the end of a strand from his shoulder-length, auburn hair and gave it an experimental sniff, "I think it's all out now."

Hermione reached out with her left hand, and Luna with her right to run their fingers through his thick locks. Growing it out had been the right thing to do; the same properties that made his hair untamable when short gave it body and natural wave when worn long.

Luna grinned, "I know girls who would _kill_ to have hair this gorgeous."

Hermione smirked, "Yeah. Me, for one."

Harry looked at her and smiled, "Your hair is perfect, Your Grace."

Luna pouted, "What about mine?"

He looked to his other side and said, "Your hair is perfect, too, My Lady."

Keeping the pout going, she groused, "But my hair is nothing like Hermione's."

"That's right, and so your hair is perfect for you, and Hermione's is perfect for her. You are completely different, and therefore, completely perfect."

At this, both girls sat, open mouthed in shock.

Finally, Hermione said, "Harry, that was, that was…"

"The perfect thing to say?" Luna suggested.

"…yeah."

Harry smiled, and thought to himself, _I'll have to do something nice for the Lady Helena, her lessons are going to keep me out of so much trouble._

What he said was, "Was it? I'm just telling it like it is."

)O(

The Merlins, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs entered the Defence classroom, wondering who the instructor would be this week and were surprised to see the Headmaster at the front desk.

"You shouldn't be so surprised, ladies and gentlemen, after all, every headmaster has taught every subject offered at this school at least once."

He leaned forward and lowered his voice, "Frankly, though, I was pants at Divination."

This admission set the students at ease and they got down to the day's lessons, transfiguration for defence.

The class practiced transfiguring desktops into different materials, stone being the most sought after end-result. Wood to stone was relatively easy, but Dumbledore showed the class how to make a wooden surface as hard and clear as diamond.

"It's a pity we can't make this transfiguration permanent, it would be of inestimable value."

The Headmaster had the students move all the furniture to the walls, clearing the center of the room for sparring practice.

"Mild stinging hexes only," Dumbledore admonished, "Unless you want your next opponent to be me."

Everyone got the message; no one wanted to oppose the greatest wizard of the 20th Century.

"But sir," Blakely, a Hufflepuff, complained, "there's nothing to transfigure for a shield."

"Perhaps, Mister Blakely, that's why we're only allowing _mild_ stinging hexes?"

The Merlins, not content to simply stand and get stung, did some interesting calisthenics to avoid most of the stingers.

Then Luna laughed, and said, "Harry, sting me. Go ahead, I won't dodge this one."

Harry, not understanding, asked, "Are you sure? You might, um, feel a little prick."

Pansy covered her guffaw with an impromptu coughing fit.

Luna smiled dreamily, and said, "I'm not worried."

"Okay, _attonitus!"_

The hex sped toward Luna's leg, but dissipated just shy of its target. Once the hex was neutralized, there was a pop, like that of a champagne cork.

Gobsmacked, Harry asked, "Was that a shield, a targeted _protego?"_

Albus Dumbledore, smiling broadly, said, "No, Mister Evans, Miss Lovegood is simply applying today's lesson in defence."

Hermione jumped up and down, clapping, "You transfigured the air!"

"Yes, yes. Well done Merlins. Take ten points for your house."

"What did you transfigure the air into?" Harry asked.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Um, hum. A perfect nothing. I transfigured a shield-sized sheet of air into a vacuum."

Neville got it too. "Most hexes have to pass through a conductor, even if it's just air. No air, nothing for the spell to go through."

Luna beamed, "It's simple really, you have to form a containment, like a large, flat box. Then vanish the air from the container. The vacuum lasts as long as the container holds it."

"That's why there was a popping noise; when the 'container' collapses, the air rushes in. Like a little clap of thunder." Harry sussed.

The Merlins spent the rest of the period showing their classmates how to transfigure air into nothing, and contain it in a thin field. It was probably the first really useful class about nothing ever taught.

Charms class followed, and the spur-of-the-moment "chariot" race became the stuff of legend.

One of the more useful charms is animation, that is, the animation of normally inanimate objects, such as the chairs and tables in the classroom.

Professor Flitwick entered the classroom, riding comfortably on his tall stool, which walked with the easy gait of a camel, and began the lesson.

"There are those who find it amusing to animate a classmate's chair, making it scuttle out of the way when the victim sits down. Ask the Weasley Twins, I gave them five points each for successfully animating two chairs, but then had to remove ten points, each, for what was, in fact, a rather mean prank.

"They have assured me that they will use cushioning charms in the future to avoid embarrassing injuries."

The demi-goblin made sure each student had a pair of scissors for the practical lab.

"It is fairly easy to animate a pair of scissors, as they open to form what are, essentially, two pointed legs and two rounded arms. The lab will be complete when everyone can walk with their scissors from one end of the classroom to the other, remember, _walk_, never, ever run with scissors…"

Half the class groaned and the other half looked lost and confused.

The five Merlins had their clippers do a close order drill, marching from the front of the classroom to the back, where they halted, sharply about faced, then stood at parade rest, awaiting further orders.

Harry, Hermione and Luna worked with the Slytherins while Pansy and Neville assisted the Gryffindors. Soon the formation was a small company of clippers, four columns of six marching, in step, with sharp precision all around the classroom.

Flitwick applauded with sheer, unabashed delight.

Harry casually flicked his wand and whispered, _permoveo equus, _then directed Luna's chair over to her, backwards, so that the back of the chair resembled the long neck of a pony. The equine chair nudged Luna's side with its make-believe head as if looking for a scratch between the uprights. Luna squealed in delight and petted the animation.

Soon five, then ten chairs were trotting around the classroom.

The professor, sensing a teachable moment, directed the furniture, and the animators, outside, where the equine seats could galumph to their heart's content.

Hermione and Luna held back, wanting to be the last out of the classroom. When they did emerge, the professor and students all stared, stupefied.

The Ladies Merlin were dressed in short white togas, laurel wreaths atop their brows. They had transfigured tables into two-wheeled chariots, and held reins that controlled six equine chairs each.

Both girls raised their left hands, Luna began, "Hail Caesar!"

Hermione finished, saying, "Let the Circus Maximus begin!"

Harry turned to the professor, who looked back, as if to say, "Could we stop them if we wanted to?"

What the professor said was, "Hey, don't look at me, I'm no Caesar."

Harry smiled, raised his hand and said, "Three circuits around the commons, the winner may choose a forfeit for the loser. Begin!"

With maniacal glee, Luna snapped the reins, "_Hah!"_

Hermione followed, right behind, determined to overtake her opponent.

The commons was a large square, and, as classes were in session, thankfully empty. Luna careened through the first turn on one wheel, Hermione close on her heels.

The first half of the race, one and a half circuits, Hermione endured dirt and grass and pebbles kicked up by Luna's chariot wheels.

Cheers from the commons had students crowding the classroom windows all around the square.

Hermione managed to edge inside on the next turn, so that her chairs charged ahead. Both charioteers were equally matched on the straight runs. It was obvious the race would be won or lost on the turns.

Luna reigned back, letting her opponent get ahead so that she could switch to the inside. Sure enough, she was able to crowd Hermione to the outside on the next turn, their wheels clipping ominously.

With two turns to go, Hermione steered her steeds to an intercept point that would have caused a spectacular crash if Luna hadn't seen it coming and reined back.

Last turn, and both girls were out for blood. Faces contorted into angry scowls, they screamed at their equines.

"Give it all you've got, damn you!"

"Move yer bloomin' arse!"

Then, Luna and Hermione looked at each other and everything seemed to stop.

The cheering crowd, the clattering chair feet, the wind in their hair.

Both had a moment, a quarter-second of crystal clarity.

_"I could win this race, but lose something that really matters."_

They both slowed to a trot, then to a walk.

Crossing the finish line in perfect step.

Both girls dropped their reins, jumped down from their chariots, then pulled each other into a tight embrace. They fell to their knees, clinging desperately to one another.

Harry looked at his best friends, completely gobsmacked.

"What just happened?" he asked, in a small voice.

Pansy put a hand on his shoulder.

"What just happened, you lucky bloke, is that your girlfriends have made their choice."

"And what choice was that?"

"It's not my place to say, My Lord. But trust me. It's a good thing."

Pansy walked over to Neville and said, "Let me see that letter again, then I want to talk to Parvati."

)O(

That night, in Dreamscape, the Castle Ghosts led the Merlins outside.

Neville said, "Huh, I never noticed that wall before."

Indeed, a fairly high stone wall started at the end of the footpath, straight into Black Lake and extended into the water.

"'Tis a privacy fence, My Lord, the ladies will be on one side and the lords will be on the other."

"And why do we need a privacy wall, fence, whatever?" Harry asked.

Helena smiled, "Because you will be bathing on this side and our ladies will be bathing on the other."

"Bathing?"

Pansy sque-eed, "Swimming! We're going to learn to swim!"

Hermione huffed, "Boys and girls swim together all the time, honestly."

Friar Mike raised an eyebrow, "And you are comfortable with this, My Lady Hufflepuff?"

"Of course, why not? It's not like we're naked. We wear swimmers."

The older ghosts looked confused, Myrtle explained, "Swimmers are bathing costumes."

Sir Nicholas scowled, "Why anyone would wear clothing into the water is beyond me. I'm sorry My Lords, My Ladies, we don't have "swimmers" in Dreamscape. So, unless you've gone completely Bohemian, may I suggest we retire to our own side of the fence?"

The Lady Helena and Myrtle led the girls to one side of the wall, Sir Nicholas, the Baron and Friar Mike took the boys to the other.

The girls, not yet of an age to suffer from 'body envy' quickly stripped and ran into the water, which was pleasantly cool, but not cold. Pansy and Luna each had a personal swim instructor as Hermione and Myrtle were both muggleborn, and were already expert swimmers.

The boys, however, had to endure the droning of Friar Mike reading instructions from a manual he'd found in the library.

The first lesson was ominously referred to as "drown-proofing."

By the time the boys were comfortable floating, first face up, then face down in the water the girls were already learning basic swim strokes.

The girls called over, "How's it going over there."

Harry groused, "Great, just great. We're learning how not to drown."

"Give us a minute, we'll be right over!"

Neville sounded panicked, "What, over here?"

"It's okay, were mostly underwater, and the water's all murky."

The boys watched the edge of the wall in the deeper water and soon saw Hermione's head, then Myrtle's, followed by the others.

There were a few, awkward, uncomfortable moments, as neither Harry nor Neville had ever been nude in the presence of members of the opposite sex. But, as their hormones were still dormant, it soon became a non-issue.

Hermione worked with Harry, Myrtle and Pansy gave Neville tips, advice and encouragement.

Harry turned out to be a natural, picking up the breaststroke, the Australian Crawl, and the side stroke with preternatural ease. When, after just a few minutes of instruction, he'd managed a perfectly acceptable butterfly, Hermione squealed and pulled him into a tight hug.

A tight, _naked_ hug.

And it was okay.

The dreaded hormones were yet to awaken.

Myrtle blushed, wondering, _was I ever that innocent?_

After several hours of swimming in Dreamscape, the Merlins were very comfortable around water, and each other.

)O(

Mid-April was damp and dreary. Dreamscape aside, the Merlins were feeling restless.

Even the Library, their favourite haven in the real world, seemed a bit stifling.

And for some unknown reason, Hermione was feeling cranky.

Luna looked worried, "Hermione, um, your Nargelites are looking a little wonky. Are you feeling okay?"

Truth be told, she wasn't feeling particularly 'okay,' she felt crabby and moody and having the fact that you don't feel good ratted out on you by tiny motes of magic that only one person can see in the real world caused her to lash out irrationally.

"No, and if you can't keep your bloody pets away from me, at least have the _decency_ to be quiet about them!"

It was the most vehement, hurtful thing Hermione had ever said in her whole life, and she'd said it to the most vulnerable girl in the school.

If an expression can make a sound, Luna's would have been that of shattering glass, a whole wall of shattering glass.

Eyes brimming with tears, she bolted from the library table.

Hermione sat at the table, frozen in shock.

Where in Hell did that come from?

"Luna? Luna I'm sorry!" she tried to call after her best friend's retreating back.

Miss Pince shushed her.

"Oh, shush yourself, you old biddy!" Hermione said, running after Luna.

Harry came back to the table with two heavy tomes on arithmancy and runes, only to find it empty.

He looked at the adjacent table where Neville and Pansy were pouring over the fine print in some contract and said, "Pansy, Neville?"

No response.

He walked closer and felt the edge of a privacy 'bubble.' "Did you see where Luna and Hermione went?"

Both shook their heads, "No, sorry, we've been concentrating on this."

Harry left the quieted sphere and walked into Miss Pince in mid-tirade, "…remember that the Hogwarts Library is a privilege, a privilege young man, not a right. And privileges can be revoked."

"I'm sorry, Miss Prince, are you talking to me?"

"I said," she continued, gamely, "as your friends ran away, shouting, that they need to be reminded that the Hogwarts Library…"

"Is a privilege, yes Miss, I got that. Did you see which way they went?"

With that the librarian threw up her hands and stormed back to the circulation desk.

When Luna ran from the library, sobbing, two Ravenclaws followed her. When she rounded a second corner into a deserted corridor, the younger one whispered, "Stupefy!"

Just then, in the second floor girl's loo, Myrtle Malone felt a tug. Something was not quite right in Hogwarts Hallowed halls.

They just managed to pull her into an empty classroom and close the door when Hermione, now in tears herself, ran down the same corridor, shouting, "Luna, please, I'm sorry, I swear, I didn't mean it, Luna…"

The older Ravenclaw looked at the door, and sighed in relief as Hermione's voice faded in the distance.

"Trouble within the Merlins, I see."

The boy's sister just shrugged, and said with a pronounced Irish brogue, "Show me any group of three or more, outside the Trinity, that doesn't have its share of troubles. Have yeh got the bottle?"

He smiled, then pulled the small vial from his robe.

Rolling Luna on her back, the boy said, hold her mouth open, I'll give her a few drops, then we can enervate her.

He was about to unstopper the bottle when a ghost, wailing like a banshee, burst up through the floor.

Ghosts were common in Hogwarts, simply part of the charm of the place, but this was an angry, vengeful spirit. And these children, being Irish, _knew_ about banshees.

"What have you done? Have you hurt her? Have you harmed our Blessed Moon's child?"

"Nuh, no! I swear, we haven't harmed her, I swear!"

"To me! Spirits of Hogwarts, _to me!"_

Suddenly the room was filled with ghosts, and none of them were benign.

The door splintered as an overpowered _reducto_ reduced it to toothpicks, and an angry Hermione Granger, looking even more frightening than the ghosts in the room, stood silhouetted in the doorframe.

"Step away from my sister, now!"

The two Ravenclaws scuttled back.

Hermione slid on her knees to cradle Luna's head on her lap.

The miscreants tried to bolt out the door but ran into the rest of the House of Merlin.

"What have you done to her?" Hermione demanded, her voice all the more frightening as it was devoid of any emotion.

The girl, sensing how close to death she was, said, "Nothin', just a mild stunner, she's not even hurt, see?"

Hermione didn't even use her wand; she simply caressed Luna's face gently and whispered _"Enervate."_

Luna's eyes fluttered open, "Oh, Hermione, I'm so, so sorry…"

Hermione helped her sit up, "Shush, you have nothing to be sorry about. I'm just glad you weren't hurt, wait, there's blood on the floor. Luna, are you feeling okay, are you hurt anywhere."

"Um, Hermione?"

But Hermione was inspecting the back of Luna's head for any kind of wound.

"Hermione?"

"Yes, I'm here, Luna, can you feel where you're bleeding?"

"Hermione, um, it's not my blood."

"Wha?"

)O(

As always, three cheers to Tommy King, Brit-picker extraordinaire, without whom, this would just be a tale told by a 'shudder' Floridian Yank – which is wrong on so many levels…


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Hermione and Luna escorted each other to the hospital wing.

Luna's assailants stood uncomfortably on one side of a classroom table, facing Harold Evans, Neville Longbottom and Pansy Parkinson on the other. They were, in turn completely surrounded by two dozen angry ghosts.

Lady Helena began, "Seamus and Fiona Hogan, Fifth and Seventh Years, respectively, both Ravenclaws." She shook her head, obviously embarrassed to be connected to them in any way.

Seamus tried to bluster, "You can't do anything to us, you're just students, and ghosts…" his efforts, fell short of the mark.

Pansy smiled, "You know those rumours, those _Royal_ rumours, concerning certain members of the House of Merlin?"

Both Ravenclaws nodded.

"Do you know the penalty for attacking the High Chamberlain of a Royal Family?"

Fiona balked, "A what?"

"You could be drawn and quartered. Tied to four hippogriffs and torn limb from limb, and Their Royal Majesties would receive an apology from Her Majesty the Queen for having been put to any trouble by two British Subjects."

Both students were ashen faced now. Fiona whimpered.

"Now, what was this about?"

Trembling, Seamus said, "I can't say."

"You can't say or you won't say?"

"I can't say, if I do, my life, and the life of my sister are forfeit."

Neville, channelling all he'd learned about becoming the Head of a Noble House drawled, "Your life is already forfeit, the only choice you have in this, is who will collect." He looked around at the angry sprits in the room, "I don't think two more ghosts will be noticed, do you?"

A warm, yellow stream ran down Fiona's leg and she burst into tears, "We din't want ta do it, but our home, our lands, our legacy, my _dowry_… it'll all be gone if we fail. And we've already failed, haven't we? And, and now we're as good as dead!"

Pansy and Neville understood. Turning away, they cast a privacy shield and explained it to Harry.

"The Hogan Family is indebted to someone, it could be a life debt or a simple bank note called due. We can use them to find out who is behind the attack."

Harry smiled, "The Hogan siblings have already proven that they're tools. We'll just make them _our_ tools."

The three Merlins turned to face Seamus and Fiona. They were smiling, but somehow, the Irish siblings weren't comforted.

Still smiling, Pansy and Neville raised their wands and whispered "_Somnus."_

)O(

Poppy Pomfrey sat with Hermione and Luna, explaining the miracle that marked the coming of age for any witch.

"Healer Pomfrey," Hermione said, "I've read all about puberty and menstruation. I know about the changes going on with my body, I can even recite the stages of a normal, monthly cycle."

The matron smiled, empathetically, "But knowing about menses and experiencing it are two different things, aren't they?"

Hermione sighed in pain and exasperation. "Tell me about it…"

Poppy dispensed a mild muscle-relaxing potion and a box of witch's pads, the magical counterpart to mundane feminine hygiene products, then prescribed bed rest for the rest of the evening.

On the way back to their quarters, Luna observed, "Your Nargelites used to be like mine, just hovering around your head, a glowing nimbus, and up and down your spine. I'm pretty sure that's where our magical core is."

Hermione grimaced as another cramp hit her, "And now?"

"Now you have a glow 'down there,' you know, around your tummy."

"Yeah, where all the 'action' is, right now." She groaned and said, "I'm so sorry I snapped at you before, I really wasn't myself. As bad as I feel, this is nothing to how I felt when I hurt your feelings."

Luna pulled her 'sister from another mother' into a one-armed hug, "It's okay, Hermione, I know you didn't mean it."

"I just want to take my potion, crawl into bed and die in peace."

Luna took Hermione to her room and helped her get ready for bed, "You want some company tonight?"

"No, I think I need to be by myself for now."

"Okay, call me if you need anything, goodnight."

"Goodnight, Luna."

As Hermione entered Dreamscape she saw two strangers, the same two that had attacked Luna earlier that evening.

She was about to hex them into the next time-zone when Harry placed a calming hand on her shoulder.

"These vassals are petitioning the Royal House of Evans for sanctuary, Your Grace."

It was then that Hermione noticed that both she and Harry were dressed in their Royal Purple robes, trimmed in ermine. She quickly caught on, "What is your command, Your Highness?"

"We will accept their oaths of fealty, and, in return, shall provide for their future needs."

The Hogan siblings were down on one knee, ready to give their oaths.

Harry explained, "We are awaiting our High Chamberlain."

Luna entered, wearing her badge of office. Without preamble, she began, "On pain of death, and loss of magic to your third generation, do you swear fealty to the House and Family Evans?"

Fiona and Seamus recited, "Until His Highness releases us or death takes us, so say we, so mote it be."

"Rise, Fiona and Seamus Hogan, esquires to the House of Evans."

Luna studied the brother and sister for a moment, "Your Highness, Your Grace, I see a geas has been placed on your vassals, may I?"

If the Hogan siblings could see Nargelites or not, they didn't comment. The fact that Luna could interpret the intent of the magic binding them didn't surprise anyone there.

Luna knelt before Seamus. "The geas is binding you, but not your sister. Have you taken an oath."

"No, ma'am. Not until today."

"Good, then this can be removed without harming your magic."

Luna nudged the seemingly random motes to swirl in a pattern like a cyclone, then used her hands to divide off long, pale stream.

"You see how these are a different colour? That means they're not contiguous with his magic, and, as such, can be siphoned off."

Harry and Hermione, both fascinated, watched closely.

Harry asked, "Where will they go?"

"They'll go where all magic goes, eventually. Back to the Earth, the source of all magic."

As if on cue, the rivulet of lighter coloured motes streamed toward the castle floor where they disappeared with a gurgling sound, like that of water down a drain.

"Now, Seamus, you are free to tell us who compelled you to act against us, and what you were going to do."

Head lowered in shame, Seamus said, "We were to accost the Lady Lovegood, or Dame Parkinson, administer veritaserum, and ask the whereabouts of any and all Royal properties in the UK..

Pansy set up a privacy bubble and said, "That makes no sense, I've already told the Purebloods that the Evans family has extensive holdings in London, Glasgow, Cardiff and Dublin. There's something he's not saying."

"Or," Hermione guessed, "There's something _he_ hasn't been told."

Luna continued, "We'll give you a list of properties to copy down later, who told you to do these things?"

"Malfoy."

The 'Royals' looked at each other incredulously, "You're taking orders from an eleven-year-old _firstie?"_

"No, Highness, from his father, Lucius Malfoy."

Hermione grimaced, then leaned into Harry's side.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"I'm not, um, _well_, My Lord."

"Lady Luna, Dame Pansy, see to our vassals, we will return anon."

)O(

Harry woke, then bolted out of bed, and ran to Hermione's suite. She lay curled into a tight ball, whimpering.

"Hermione, don't worry, I'll go get the school healer!"

"No!" she gasped, "No, it's okay, Madame Pomfrey knows…"

Hermione gave a brief, concise description of her 'Monthly Visitor,' and, while she appreciated Harry's concern, there wasn't really anything he could do about it.

For his part, Harry felt so helpless. He curled up next to his best friend, and felt some pangs of his own.

Magic is manifested in potions, runes and / or incantations accompanied by wands and / or crystals, along with other familiar focusing paraphernalia. The true power, however, of any spell, malevolent or benign, is in its _intent_.

At that precise moment, Harry wanted to take away Hermione's pain, even if it meant taking it on himself. As they settled into the duvet, spooning, Harry murmured, "You'll be all right, alright, let me help, please, let me help."

As they lay, spooned together in her bed, Hermione's pain ebbed. She groaned in relief and, content, was soon asleep, followed by Harry, and, together, they made their way back to Dreamscape.

)O(

They found themselves standing in an antechamber.

"Feeling better?" Harry asked.

"Much, oh, much, _much_ better."

Harry didn't feel the need to mention that he was feeling rather, _uncomfortable_, at the moment. Such was the nature of his empathetic magic. He could lessen her aches and cramps, but the pain had to go _somewhere_.

Re-emerging in Dreamscape's Audience Chamber, Prince Harold, following the advice of his most trusted retainers, prepared his newest vassals for their mission.

"You'll tell Malfoy that you were successful, which, after a fashion, you were. If you are in a position to see his face, take note of his expression when you tell him you administered the veritaserum to the Lady Lovegood. If they are wizards of their word, your debts will be absolved, if not, then get word to us by way of post owl."

Pansy raised her wand, causing the Hogan siblings to cringe, "You are under our protection now, don't be afraid. I'm going to cast a sleeping spell, when you wake, you'll be in the same classroom you were in before. Sir Neville will direct you from there."

Neville, getting the hint, left the room so that he could awaken and head for the classroom. Fortunately, it was on the same floor as their chambers.

_"Somnus!"_

Seamus and Fiona awoke in the classroom, and, as Dame Pansy had said, Sir Neville was there with them. He gave them several sheaves of parchment, saying "This is a list of our holdings in and out of the UK. Take this back to Malfoy. Remember your instructions."

Fiona, blinking, looked around and gasped, "How?"

"The how and where and why are on a need to know basis. Remember, no one is to know of our 'status.' I know all about the rumours, but you will not confirm any of them, is that clear?

Both siblings, cowed, answered, "Yes, My Lord."

"And for Hecate's sake, don't address us as Lord or Highness or even Sir or Dame, it's just Neville, Harry, Hermione, Pansy and Luna. Got that?"

"Yes, My, um, Neville."

"Good. Now, I need a few drops of your veritaserum. We need to know what's in it, and it would look suspicious if you were to return with a full bottle."

Seamus handed Neville the bottle. Neville emptied several drops into a smaller vial.

"Remember, don't trust anyone outside of the House and Family of Evans, _anyone."_

"Yes, Neville."

"Good, go on now."

The Hogan sibs scuttled out of the room.

"Yep, they're tools alright, but by Merlin's beard, they're _our_ tools now."

)O(

The next day, in Potions Class, the Merlins added Quantitative Analysis to their list of skills.

"Professor Snape, sir, could you confirm our analysis, please?"

Severus checked the vial, then the component breakdown.

"Veritaserum, yes, and something else…"

The professor paled, then whispered, "_Moonshadow?"_

He spun on his Potions protégés, demanding, "Where did you get this?"

Neville said, "From an unused classroom, what exactly is moonshadow, professor?"

Snape sat down at the student's table, something he'd never done before, and set a silencing spell around himself and the Merlins.

"It's a nasty piece of work. Very popular when the Dark Lord of my generation was rising."

All five Merlins waited patiently for the professor to explain.

"It's the first half of a binary potion, similar to liquid imperious. When combined with the proper co-agent, in this case, veritaserum, it strips the recipient of their will, making them very, um, suggestible."

Pansy nodded, "I've heard of this, the victim can be made to say or do anything, and, If I remember right, there's no cure?"

Severus nodded his head, "That is correct."

As the professor moved on to work with other students, Harry re-cast the privacy charm. Four of the five Merlins looked at Luna.

"What?"

"Malfoy's going to think you've taken the veritaserum with moonshadow."

Luna smiled, "You mean this veritaserum?" she asked, pulling a bottle from her robe, "Or this one?" she said, pulling another. "Or this, or this, this, this?"

"When Neville gave the Hogans back their 'tainted' serum, he actually gave them one of our batches."

Hermione smiled, "Oh, that's brilliant! When Malfoy checks the bottle, he'll find untainted potion, and who do you think he'll blame?"

"His number one son."

Harry looked thoughtful, "Malfoy is not going to be happy with his son. Perhaps we should offer Draco asylum?"

Pansy objected, "His whole family has been, like mine, dark for years. Anytime there's a Dark Lord on the rise, you'll see Malfoy money and influence behind him."

Neville nodded, "It's true, they are a dark aligned family."

Hermione said, "But he's only eleven, can someone be evil, truly evil at eleven years of age?"

Luna put her hand on Harry's shoulder, "I say it depends."

Harry, glad for any help in this decision, asked, "On what?"

"On whether or not Draco knew there would be moonshadow in that potion. If he did, he's already beyond our help. If not…"

All were in favour, except Pansy, "I still don't like it."

"I know, Pansy," Neville said, "But isn't it worth a try? We could be saving a life here."

"Hey, no fair, big, sad, puppy-dog eyes! Argh! Alright. Morgana's brass knickers, we'll give him a chance."

)O(

On their way to lunch they happened upon Parvati Patil, and Ronald Weasley, who was carrying her books.

Pansy looked gob-smacked, "Parvati? _Ron?"_

Parvati Patil smiled, "Isn't he sweet? There's nothing my little Ronnie won't do for me. I swear, he follows me around like a puppy. We sit together in classes and in the Great Hall at mealtimes. I haven't carried a book farther than the common room since last November."

"Come on, 'Vati, I smell chips!" With that pronouncement, they practically ran to lunch.

The Merlins shared a look, and Neville said, "Well, that explains why we haven't seen much of Ron this year."

"Yeah," Pansy smirked, "He's whipped."

Hermione an Luna leaned toward Harry, batted their long eyelashes and cooed, "Wouldn't you like to carry our books?"

He shrugged, then levitated the books out of their arms, and charmed them to float along behind the girls, like well heeled little puppies.

"How's that?"

Hermione smirked, "Not the same, but…"

Luna was having fun zigzagging, hither and yon, down the hall, watching her attendant tomes try to keep up.

"…but this is more clever, and fun!" Luna giggled.

Neville leaned into Pansy, "Have you spoken with Parvati yet, about her father's proposal?"

"Haven't had the time. I hope Papa Patil can wait before deciding to satisfy her 'life debt'."

"I don't think he'll be ringing up the vicar anytime soon. Um, Pansy?"

"Yes, Neville?"

"Can I carry your books for you?"

The warm smile he got in response was well worth the extra weight he would carry from then on.

)O(

The Wizengamot came to order. The Legislative session began with a petition to register and magically bind all non-magicals who, by accident of birth, were related to witches or wizards.

Sirius Black, still thin and wan from a decade in Azkaban, spoke, "This important bill before you, my fellow Members of the Wizengamot, will make certain that no magical child is ever again harmed either by action, or by malevolent inaction, by a muggle guardian. No magical child need ever be abused or neglected again."

Rounds of "Hear, hear!" and "Too right!" followed.

"I only wish this law had been in effect when those animals had my godson, my poor, poor…"

At this point, Sirius sat down, overcome with emotion.

One wizard stood and began to applaud, followed by another, then another, then the whole chamber erupted in spontaneous applause.

After the session there was a queue of the powerful and influential, all to congratulate Sirius Black on a brilliant bit of legislation and oratory.

More than one implied that he would be an excellent choice for Chief Warlock.

The members of the Cabal had a congratulatory brandy after hours.

)O(

"Oi, leave her alone!" Ron's voice echoed down the empty corridor.

It was after dinner, early May, and Ron and Parvati had just come in from a pleasant stroll along the shore when they were accosted by four, fourth year boys.

Ron had dropped his and Parvati's books and gone for his wand, but a quick "_expelliarmus"_ left him empty-handed.

"What's a supposed pure-blood like you, Weasley, doin' with a bloody wog?"

Parvati bristled, but Ron was enraged, "You don't _ever_ call her that!"

By luck and sheer audacity, his first punch landed square in the middle of one boy's face with a satisfying crunch, but it was the only hit he landed.

Meanwhile, Neville and Pansy, who had been a few minutes behind Ron and Parvati, heard the boy's scream, then the sounds of a beating and sent Sir Nicholas after Harry and Hermione and their Head of House.

Neville rounded the corner with a proper Anglo Saxon war cry and crashed into the two boys who were menacing Parvati. Pansy sent three quick stunners, two of which connected, unfortunately one connected with Neville.

That left three wands pointed back at her.

"Oh, bollocks!"

Hermione's voice reprimanded, "Language!"

"Sorry, Your Grace."

Harry, Hermione, Luna and a dozen ghosts stood in the hallway.

"Wands down." Harry said, then, looking at Pansy, added, "Everyone."

Four wands lowered.

"Now, what happened."

Everyone began shouting at the same time.

Luna placed two fingers at the corners of her mouth and blew hard, "Fweeeeet!" Everybody froze, looking at her, gobsmacked.

"Damn!" Harry said, "I wish I could do that."

"Language."

"Yes, Your Grace."

"Now, Parvati, what happened?"

Parvati, transfixed by the glares of the three boys who remained standing, glares that promised painful retribution, quailed.

"We were, um, walking, you know walking back from the lake and, and this was a short path to Gryffindor Tower, and…"

"Folsom, Tanner, O'Donnell!" Hermione snapped.

"What?"

"Don't think we're stupid. You are intimidating a girl, a _firstie_ because you know you can."

Another voice broke in, "Right, you three, with me. Harold, you talk to Ron, you can have a nice chat while you're on your way to see Madame Pomfrey.

"Hermione and Luna will interview Parvati."

"Pansy, are Neville and," she leaned over to get a better look, "Lahr, stunned or concussed?"

"Stunned, Miss."

"All right then, enervate them, you look after Neville, and I'll take Lahr with me."

Soon the corridor was empty.

The next day saw Folsom, Tanner, O'Donnell and Lahr before the Deputy Head. Each boy was accompanied by their respective head of house.

Severus Snape stood with Folsom and Lahr, Filius Flitwick with O'Donnell and Tanner stood alone, as he was in Gryffindor.

"I saw this kind of thuggery during the last war. Usually blood purists picking on those smaller and weaker to prop up their own self image."

"Lahr, are you from a pureblood family?"

The rotund bully stood straighter and said, "Yes, ma'am!"

"For how many generations?"

"Ma'am?"

"It's a simple question, Lahr, for how many generations?"

"Well, um, both sets of my grandparents were witches and wizards, so I'm a pureblood…"

"Your maternal grandmother and paternal grandfather were classmates of mine, Mister Lahr, would it interest you to know they were both first generation magic users?"

Lahr paled, "No!"

"Oh, yes, Mister Lahr."

She regarded the rest of the miscreants, "As it happens, none of you are 'Purebloods' in the purest sense. O'Donnell, both your parents are magical, but none of your grandparents were, that makes you, what, a quarter-blood?"

"Now, the Weasley boy is twenty generations, that's five hundred years of magic users. And Miss Patil, whom you called, what was that word again? Oh yes, a _'wog_,' that word keeps coming up, and it never means anything good to the one who says it. Miss Patil can trace her magical ancestry over two _hundred_ generations - they were witches and wizards before the rise, let alone the fall, of the Roman Empire."

Minerva McGonagall smirked, "If blood purity equals power, you gentlemen are lucky to be alive."

She let that point sink in.

"In times past you would have been docked house points, given detentions and sent on your merry way."

She leaned forward on her desk, "That was then, this is now. Oh, rest assured, you've lost your respective houses many, many points, and you will be in detention everyday for the remainder of this term, but, in addition, this will become part of your permanent scholastic record. Anyone reading it, say a master spell-crafter looking for an apprentice, will see it, and may find someone else more suitable."

"Oh," she smiled, "And you are _all_ on disciplinary probation."

Tanner balked, "For how long, Headmistress?"

"For the remainder of your time at Hogwarts. Any infraction of the rules, no matter how slight, no matter how trivial, will result in your immediate and irrevocable expulsion. In short, gentlemen, if you want to continue to matriculate at Hogwarts, you will become model citizens, as well as model students."

Minerva had their undivided attention.

"Are we in any way, unclear about the position you've placed yourselves in?"

Ashen-faced, the boys shook their heads, "No."

As the boys were being escorted out by their heads of house, she added, "Be sure to tell all your friends, things have changed at Hogwarts."

Lastly, she captured Tanner's eyes with a look that reminded him of her animagus nature. She was all feline and he felt rather mouse-like at the moment, a fat, three legged mouse to be precise. "You may go, Mister Tanner, we wullnae be meeting like this again noo, wull we?"

"Yes, Headmistress, I mean, no, Headmistress." He stumbled out the door.

"Wasn't that a bit harsh, Minerva?" Dumbledore asked from her anteroom where he'd been watching the dressing-down.

"If there are no real consequences, there will be no change in behavior." She spun on the old Headmaster, "Four boys, fourteen and fifteen years old, well into puberty, attack and corner a helpless eleven year old girl. Have you _no_ idea what could have happened?"

"But nothing did happen."

"Only because the House of Merlin stepped in to prevent it."

)O(

Dreamscape.

Harry and Neville were sparring, sending stinging hexes and blocking with basic shields. At the end of it both were exhausted, even though they were actually asleep.

"I've noticed that, whatever we do in Dreamscape carries over into the waking world." Neville said, downing a mug of butterbeer.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, "When we exercise, I wake up a little sore."

Myrtle, who was fetching a book for Luna, said, "I wasn't able to change anything about my appearance while haunting the Second-floor girl's loo. But now I don't look or feel so, well, weepy."

"You know," Pansy said, "Ron was pretty useless without his wand."

"That's true of most of us, innit?" Neville asked.

Hermione gave Harry a damp towel for his brow and said, "There are many forms of self-defense that don't use wands or weapons at all. You know, martial arts."

Luna said, "Oh, I remember going to the cinema and seeing a film about a boy who learns Karate, it was very good."

"Is there anyone here at Hogwarts who can teach us?"

The Bloody Baron harrumphed, "I was once considered a champion Greco-Roman wrestler."

Neville and Harry beamed, "That's a start."

Hermione added, "And I'll bet we can find a martial arts school over the summer break, somewhere we can all learn."

Luna clapped gleefully, "And if Miss Myrtle comes with us, we can all train in Dreamscape as well."

Harry stood and drew both his best friends into a tight hug, "Excellent."

Sitting back down, he said, "Just one more thing, we can't be everywhere, we can't do everything. Remember what we said, about, "Changing the Water?" Well, part of that will be getting wizards and witches to do more for themselves."

"Wouldn't it have been better if Ron and Parvati could have stood up for themselves? With a little training, and the right attitude, they can, and will."

Luna asked, "So you want to train students to fight?"

"Yes. And no. I want to train students to be able to be responsible for their own safety and security."

Pansy nodded, "Wouldn't it be perfect if we had someone, I don't know, an ideal, like, the perfect example of someone strong and brave, yet kind and considerate."

Luna smiled, "Someone like Harry Potter?"

'Harold' looked at Luna so fast his neck made a popping noise.

Of all the Merlins, only Luna knew who he really was. He surreptitiously reached over to touch the Chameleon Cuff, keeping his identity secret, even in Dreamscape.

"Why not?" Hermione asked, "Why not let Harry Potter be our paradigm, our perfect example."

"Think about it," she was on a roll now, "Harry Potter would stand up for himself, and those he cares about, which, face it, is everyone. He _saved_ the wizarding world."

Neville added, "And he would be generous and kind, always sticking up for the downtrodden."

Luna used her wand to impress letters on a leather band, "Our mantra would be…"

She held up the leather strap, bearing the letters, WWHPD?

"What's that mean?" Pansy asked.

Luna smiled, "What Would Harry Potter Do?"

'Harold Evans' grimaced and groaned inwardly.

)O(

Thanks again to Tommy King, Brit-picker _par excellence_, British by birth, Scottish by the Grace of God.

Speaking of Great Scots, when Minnie McGonagall is angry or excited, she tends to fall back into her Gaelic speech, it's part of her charm.

" We wullnae be meeting like this again noo, wull we?" is "We will not be meeting like this again, now will we?"

Who, other than Dame Maggie Smith, could play the indomitable McGonagall? I can see her channelling Miss Jean Brodie, "I am in the business of putting old heads on young shoulders, and all my pupils are the creme de la creme. Give me a witch at an impressionable age and she is mine for life."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Author's Note: Fair notice, herein lies what is arguably the worst pun ever in the history of Fan Fiction. You have been warned.

Dreamscape

The Bloody Baron, bare-chested and sweating, ran through the basic headlocks, arm drags, bear hugs and reversals for the umpteenth time.

Harry and Neville, also stripped to the waist, were drenched in sweat. Hermione and Luna cheered for the Lord of Slytherin, while Pansy and Myrtle were for Lord Gryffindor.

"Lord Harry," the Baron enthused, "your relatively small stature gives you several advantages over a larger opponent. First and foremost, they will underestimate you, second, you're wicked fast when it comes to reversals and arm locks. However, when said larger opponent, like Lord Neville here, lifts you off the ground, the best you can hope for is to fall well."

Harry puffed, "Noticed that, I have, Lord Baron."

"Don't sell yourself short, Harry," Neville groused, "You're a wiry little git, and devilishly hard to get off the ground."

"I don't know if you've noticed, 'Lord Gryffindor,' but all your baby fat has gone to muscle."

Pansy purred, "_I've_ noticed…"

The Baron smiled indulgently, then ordered, "My Lords, begin!"

Later, following a long soak and a cool shower, the Merlins reconvened in the Dreamscape library.

Luna placed an ornate, wooden wheel, half her height in diameter. at its axle, in place of a drive shaft she'd placed a brush, dipped in octopus ink. At the nine o'clock and three o'clock spokes she'd affixed additional brushes, one dipped in red ink, the other in green.

Starting at one end of the longest library table, she spoke as she moved.

"Time moves the wheel, and in doing so, moves the brushes, dark and light magic, pureblood and newblood moves as well, and as one faction is on the rise…"

Hermione jumped up from her seat, "…the other must wane!"

"Exactly. Neville, Pansy, the canvas please."

The two Merlins steadied a canvas, one metre tall and three metres long, as Luna moved the wheel again.

When she'd walked the length of the table, Luna set the wheel on the ground, and, not noticing the ink on her hands, rubbed her nose, smearing it with a smudge of brilliant green.

No one commented on her face-paint, they were all intent on the sinusoidal pattern traced on the canvas.

"That's… That's too much of a coincidence." Harry whispered.

Line for line, rise for rise and fall for fall, Luna had duplicated the rise and fall of Dark Wizards that they'd meticulously graphed months before.

Pansy sighed, "I guess that means it'll always be this way, either a great evil will rise, or it will fall, and always, always leave devastation in its wake."

Luna smiled.

Then moved the brushes from the outer reach of the wooden spokes toward the center, nearest the hub. "Please, hold the canvas one more time."

Pansy and Neville did, and this time, as Luna walked the wheel back, there were no extreme wave crests and troughs, but more of a single, tightly twisted rope-like pattern.

"See?" Luna prompted.

"The waves are still there," Myrtle observed, "but not as extreme."

"Exactly, Miss Myrtle. All the elements are still there, but what's gone are the extremes, the wild shifting from Dark to Light, from Conservative to Liberal, from Fascist to Communist, from fundamentalist to humanist, from Pureblood to Muggleborn."

Harry frowned, "These cycles, they occur naturally, right?"

Helena, Luna and Hermione nodded, Neville said, "Just normal differences of opinion."

Harry saw it first, "But something or someone has been pushing factions to extremes, someone wants there to be dark lords and dark times. But who?"

Pansy smirked, "Follow the money."

Everyone looked at the Lady Ravenclaw.

"To find out who's behind all this, follow the money. Find out who would profit most from the worst that wizardkind can produce."

Harry took Luna's hand in his own, then dabbed the ink off her nose with a tissue, "Luna, My Lady, I think it's time to talk to the goblins, don't you?"

Luna smiled, careful not to show any teeth.

When the Merlins awoke the following Saturday, they found the Deputy Headmistress at breakfast.

"Good morning, Headmistress," Luna said, speaking for the group, "My father will be here by half-ten this morning to escort me and Harold to Gringotts."

Minerva McGonagall's lip twitched, "Nice of you to inform me, Miss Lovegood. I take it this is some urgent family business that requires your presence, as well as that of Mister Evans?"

"Couldn't have said it better myself, Professor." Harry said with a smile.

At that exact moment, the guest entrance door banged open, and the Merlins turned, expecting to see Xenophilius Lovegood arriving early.

What they didn't expect was Sirius Black, in full Wizengamot regalia, approaching the main table with a broad smile.

"You!" Snape snapped.

"Yes, me. How's your old man, _Snivellus?"_

Severus proved that puce was not a good color on him, however, with herculean effort, he managed to not pull his wand in anger.

"Sirius," Professor Lupin reprimanded, "Behave. What brings you here?"

Luna distracted Sirius before he could answer by saying, icily, "Mister Boardman, I presume?"

"What?"

"I must say, Stubby. May I call you Stubby? 'Mister Boardman' sounds so formal."

"Who is Stub…"

"As I was saying, Stubby, bad form, old man, even for the lead singer of the Hobgoblins."

"What, Hobgoblins, bad form?"

"Yes, I'm happy you agree, bad form to come into a man's home, as well as his place of employment, and fail to show proper courtesy, let alone respect for his person and position."

"You mean Sniv…"

Harry interrupted, "And while we're at it, shouldn't your first greeting have been directed toward the Headmistress, as she is your hostess and the one in charge here. I have to agree. Bad form, old son."

Sirius blinked several times, "Um. Greetings, Professor McGonagall, and um, staff and students. May I beg a few minutes of your time this Saturday morn?"

Minerva was liking her Merlins more by the minute. "In private, Mister Board, I mean, Mister Black, or would you prefer to meet in my office?"

"Oh, right here is fine, Headmistress, better than fine, brilliant!"

"Well, as we're all at breakfast, won't you join us?"

Sirius accepted the invitation to the staff table, but was careful to sit at Minerva's side, opposite that of Severus Snape.

"Let me come right to the point, Professor McGonagall. I've recently learned that I owe my freedom to the actions of certain students of yours, and one in particular."

He pulled a sheaf of rolled parchments from the sleeve of his burgundy robe, "One Luna Lovegood, along with various and sundry Weasleys and a boy named Harold Evans."

In a trice, six parchments were spread out over the table with the names, Luna Lovegood, Harold Evans, Ronald, Fred, George and Percy Weasley.

"These are Official Ministry of Magic Special Awards for Exemplary Citizenship, granted this day for their actions last Summer, to wit, the discovery, and subsequent capture of the illegal animagus Peter Pettigrew." Sirius enthused, "These actions led to the release of an innocent man from Azkaban, namely, me."

Minerva McGonagall beamed, very proud of her charges, "Mister Weasley," she called, getting Ron to look up from his beans on toast. "Please go to Gryffindor Tower and bring back your three brothers, thank you."

Stepping down from the staff table, Sirius walked around to the Merlins and said, "And to Miss Lovegood, I owe my personal thanks. It was your curiosity about the curious longevity of the rat that led to his discovery and my freedom. I owe you much." He dropped to one knee, "If ever there is anything I can do for you, all you have to do is ask…"

"Anything?"

"If it's in my power to grant, yes."

"Professor Snape deserves an apology."

Sirius paled.

"You said 'anything.' Surely an apology won't cost you that much."

Stiffly, as if by tremendous effort of will, Sirius rose. "Professor Snape. My greeting was ill timed and completely inappropriate. Please accept my heartfelt and humble apologies, sir."

Severus, for his own part, could afford to be magnanimous. Sirius Black, no, _Luna_ had just given him a patronus-worthy memory that he would savour for years. "Apology accepted, Mister Black."

The remaining Weasleys burst into the Great Hall, "Whatever it is, we didn't do it!"

Fred, looking as innocent as he knew how, said, "You can ask anyone, we've been in Gryffindor Tower the whole time."

"The whole time." George confirmed.

Percy the Prefect was obviously not quite awake. He'd had rounds in the wee hours of the morning.

Raising both hands to calm the excitable gingers, Minerva said, "Odd as it may seem, Misters Weasley, you do not stand accused of anything, _this time."_

"Then what…"

"Mister Black is here, on behalf of the Wizengamot, to present you with the Ministry of Magic's Special Award for Exemplary Citizenship."

Sirius handed each of the Weasleys their parchment, and took a moment to shake each hand and thank them personally. He then turned to Luna and Harry and did the same.

The twins were speechless.

"No!"

Fred tried to give his award back to Sirius. Failing that he turned to the Deputy Headmistress, "Professor McGonagall, we can _prove_ we don't deserve these!"

George fell to his knees, begging, "Please, Professor, think of what this could do to our reputations!"

Percy was gobsmacked, "Fred and George, Exemplary citizenship. _My_ brothers?"

Minerva was smiling broadly now, "I'm sorry boys, but, in spite of your disciplinary record to date, this award comes straight from the Wizarding Government, signed by the Minister of Magic himself, for Her Majesty, Elizabeth the Second, by the Grace of God, of Great Britain, Ireland and the British Domininions beyond the Seas, Queen, Defender of the Faith."

She leaned over the table and stage-whispered, "If it helps, think of it as your greatest prank, _ever!"_

Both boys were stunned by the concept, then, understanding the magnitude of the joke being played on everyone, smile beatifically at their Headmistress, who quickly leaned back, lest her favourite twins attempt inappropriate displays of affection.

"Quite right, old bean," Fred said, "It's like a license, a 'get out of pillory free' card."

Minerva McGonagall groaned.

)O(

Xenophilius Lovegood, accompanied by Luna and Harry, marched past the tellers and guards, not bothering to slow as they banged through the gilted double doors of Gringotts private conference chamber.

The Goblin Seneck was already there, on his knees, palms on the floor, his forehead touching the backs of his hands, kowtowing to the oldest female goblin anyone had ever seen.

Xeno and Luna immediately followed the Seneck's example, and Harry followed theirs.

The Matriarch, for this could be no one else, said, "Rise my son, rise Goblin Friends."

The Matriarch stood a head shorter than the male goblins, in ornately stitched and bejewelled robes. Ancient eyes were white with cataracts, but her voice was clear and strong, her English unaccented.

Luna hissed, "Harry, do _not_ stare at The Matriarch."

Harry, who hadn't realized he was staring, quickly looked down.

"Do not chide the boy, Moon Child, he is curious, and that is a good thing for a young man to be." She turned sightless eyes toward Harry, "You have questions, Friend Potter. Please ask."

"First, ma'am…"

There were hissing noises from the goblins in the room.

"Be a peace, my children, for who among you has told our young friends the proper Goblin Protocols?"

Luna hawked and spat, then hissed at the Goblin Seneck's Attendant. The Attendant, a young, well-muscled goblin whimpered.

Then Luna, without turning away from The Matriarch, the Seneck or his Attendant reached behind her for Harry's hand. He took it and allowed himself to be drawn to her side. "Harry, address all questions to the Attendant. Questions will be relayed to The Blessed Matriarch through the Seneck, but only through her intermediaries."

"I'm sor…."

"Do not apologize." Luna hissed, "Never apologize to a goblin. It is the worst sign of weakness. And Goblins euthanize their weak."

This was so unfair. He wasn't yet twelve years old and he was expected to know the proper protocols for dealing with another _species?_

Harry took a deep breath, then said, "The world is unbalanced. Dark Lords rise and fall with alarming regularity, to the detriment of all. But one of my close friends, wise beyond her years, suggests that this is not true for all. That some people benefit from political and economic uncertainties."

Even though Harry addressed the Attendant, he was answered by the ancient Gobliness, "Indeed, in uncertain times, there are those who will sell their souls for gain, and those with wherewithal always benefit most."

Harry looked hard at the Attendant, "Wouldn't the bankers be the ones with the 'wherewithal'?"

Again, The Matriarch answered, "That is a common misconception, that the bankers have all the money. It is true that bankers control large amounts of money, but it must be invested wisely, with an eye on the long view, slow growth over a long period of time is much more preferable than short term gains."

"Where then should we look?"

"Land."

"Land?"

"Yes, land. Land for development, land for farming, mineral and water rights - land sells cheap in hard times and is dear when the economies flourish."

"So we would do well to investigate land assayers?"

The Matriarch nodded.

Luna addressed the Attendant, "May we, for a fee, of course, get a list of the land assayers most likely to handle large transactions with discretion?"

The Matriarch smiled, careful to not show any teeth. "You might find it interesting to note when the first of the 'Dark Lords' came to make a nuisance of himself."

Harry, careful to address the Attendant, said, "In the mid to late Sixteen-hundreds, by our calendar."

"And what had that to do with Goblins?"

Luna paled, "The last of the Goblin Rebellions was in the Sixteen-hundreds."

The Matriarch steepled her bejewelled fingers, "That was also when the Goblin Nation went underground. There are no longer any Goblin holdings above ground.

"It is also when Goblins learned not to be easily offended by humans. We used to be so easily provoked. When the powers behind the powers that be discovered we would no longer be the driving force behind their land-grabbing schemes, they changed tactics. As we were no longer 'the enemy,' they had to manufacture crises on their own."

Harry whispered to Luna, "Is it proper to thank a Goblin?"

The matriarch laughed, "Thanks are not necessary among friends, Young Potter, but it is permitted."

"Then, thank you, Goblins all, for the assistance you've provided today. We have much to do, and now, have a direction and a goal, and we will all profit from this meeting, I promise you."

"Come forward, human children."

Luna was at a loss. It was unthinkable for a Goblin to approach The Matriarch, let alone a son and daughter of man.

Luna stepped up to The Matriarch and kowtowed at her feet, Harry following and copying her every move.

"Rise, Goblin Friends, and accept my mark."

Unsure of what to expect, Luna and Harry rose to their knees. This put them nearly face to face with the ancient Gobliness.

As they faced The Matriarch she placed her right hand on Harry's left shoulder and her left hand on Luna's right. Then, with a deft, quick move of her index claw, she scratched a tiny "" or kenaz rune, just below the ear at the jawline.

"Turn and face your family." She said.

Harry and Luna turned to face Xeno, only to be shocked as every Goblin in the room was kowtowing to them.

"These two are now and forever children of the Goblin Clan _Huruz_. Goblin made silver and Goblin made steel are now theirs to wear and to bear unto all their generations. To oppose them is to oppose me."

A visible shudder ran through the assembled Goblins.

"And now, Moon Daughter, I think you have a question?"

Luna turned to the Attendant, but was gently directed back to the Matriarch, "You are my daughter now, Moon Child, you may ask me anything."

"The Goblin who stopped the Rebellion, the one that started in 1612… That was you?"

"Yes, child, that was me. That rebellion would have spelled the end of Goblin kind for all time."

"Then you knew," Harry began, then looked down.

"Speak plainly, my Potter son, as you should."

"You knew there was someone, some _group_ behind the parade of dark lords that has been plaguing the Wizarding World all these years."

"Yes, and I tried to tell any wizard who would listen."

"And because you are a Goblin, they refused to believe."

"Believe? They refused to even hear me."

"They will hear us… Mum!"

The Matriarch smiled and a single tear ran down her ancient face. "My son." She turned her sightless eyes to the Goblin Seneck, "Teach them. My daughter's training is barely adequate, but my son needs to know his heritage."

"By Your Unspoken Name, Matriarch, and upon my life, it shall be done."

The Matriarch spun on her heel and walked out the back doors, into the labyrinth of tunnels deep beneath London.

The Seneck smiled a tight smile, "Brother, sister, welcome to the _Huruz."_

Watching the Goblin Seneck walking beside two human children was too much for some of the Gringotts Goblins to bear, they either complained loudly or found excuses to step away from their duties.

Luna growled and spewed forth a string of profane invectives, the likes of which had never been heard in Gringotts. In English, Latin and Goblin she spewed curses, raunchy and rare, sexually demeaning and scatological until every last goblin was on his feet cheering. This was profanity worthy of a Goblin Orator. Finally, she moved the hair away from her right ear, clearly showing everyone the Mark of the Matriarch.

To a man, well Goblin, every single bank employee fell to their knees and bowed low.

The human clients shrugged their shoulders and looked hopelessly lost.

"Must be a goblin thing, then."

"Surely must."

)O(

"We've done as you asked, we gave the Lovegood girl the veritaserum, you have the list of Evans family properties in and out of the UK, now, uphold your end of the bargain!"

"Foolish children, thinking one simple task will absolve you of your family's massive debt."

Fiona cried, "But, you promised…"

"All you have to do is show me the binding, written contract, Miss Hogan, and, oh, wait, there was no contract. Pity."

"You lied!"

Malfoy's voice over the mirror was hard as steel. "That's enough from you, little girl. It's a pity my son is not a bit older; you might be able to work off some of your debt on your back with him. As it is, you have nothing, you are a pitiful remnant of a Bog Irish family that has gambled and drunk itself into poverty. None of that is my fault. If you ever want to see your ancestral home again, I suggest you keep doing whatever we tell you to."

Fiona fled in tears.

Her brother ran after her.

"And that, my son, is how you shear the sheep."

"Um, Father, forgive me, but is our word not our bond?"

"What do you mean, son?"

"You promised to forgive their debt if they did this, and they did."

"Oh, it may have sounded like that, but I never did. That's the trick, really, get the sheep to think they can win."

"I'm sure I was mistaken then, father. It, well, it sounded like a promise to me, too, is all."

"Have you seen the Lovegood girl?"

"No, Father."

"When you do, ask her to do something, oh, I don't know. Ask her to hop on one foot, and see what happens, alright, son?"

"Um, sure Father."

There was a tinny laugh from the mirror before it winked out.

Myrtle heard the whole conversation.

)O(

Harrell and Sons was an independent muggle Estate Agency that had close ties with several lending institutions of a less than savoury nature.

Lucius Malfoy's hair had a single strand out of place, and he was having trouble breathing, let alone forming a coherent sentence. Finally, he gasped out, "How is this possible?"

"I'm sure you understand, Mister Malfoy, that once the principle plus interest of the loan has been satisfied, the lien on the property goes to the new owner, who shall remain nameless. But the property will be bestowed upon those named in the document, in this case, the Hogan Family of Cork, Cork County, Ireland."

"I wasn't aware that the note had been satisfied."

"As you no longer hold the note, there is no need for you to know, Mister Malfoy. You've got your loan back and we both have made a tidy profit."

Lucius wanted to dive across the desk at the unctuous little Estate Clerk. That land was worth a bloody fortune, and he'd given it back to those, those, _Irish_ for tuppence on the bob.

"Be that as it may, we shall no longer have need of your services, _Avada Kedavra!" _

)O(

Seamus Hogan hummed a Celtic tune as he sharpened the stiletto. "I may have lost me land, and me sister her dowry, but Malfoy will have no heir, and that'll be his cross to bear!"

No unforgivable curses, which would be detected within Hogwarts, a simple slice, then transfigure the corpse into something heavy and drop it into Black Lake. "No, never saw the like, he just vanished…"

Fiona put a hand on her brother's, "We're not murderers, Seamus."

"I know, but a man can dream, can't he?"

"Let's go see His Highness, then."

It always felt odd to stand in the hallway, waiting for a ghost to announce you to an eleven-year-old boy.

Harold came out, followed by Hermione and the ever-present Luna. All of them were smiling.

"Let me guess, Malfoy refused to honour his agreement?"

Fiona snorted derisively, "And that may be the only time the name Malfoy and the word honour are used in the same sentence."

Chuckling, Harry led the group into an empty classroom. Hermione and Luna set up the privacy wards and then joined Harry seated around a large table. Luna to his right, Hermione to his left.

"Please, be seated Squire Hogan, Miss Hogan."

Seamus shook his head, "It's not right for us to sit in your presence, we'll stand, sire."

Harry shrugged, "You are sworn vassals to the House of Evans, and, as such, are under my protection. That protection includes your immediate family, in Cork."

Seamus rocked back in his chair, nearly falling over. "Your Highness?"

"Your family has raised cattle in Cork for how many generations now?"

"I dunno, maybe two-hundred years, maybe longer."

"It just so happens I know some businesses that can use what your family produces."

Seamus was speechless, "That will be fine, Your Highness, but, what good will that do? The Malfoys own our farm now."

Luna sing songed, "Don't be too sure about that!"

Hermione produced a manila envelope.

Luna produced a small jar of petroleum jelly.

Harry removed the documents from the envelope, "As I said, the Hogans are a vassal family to the House of Evans, and no one may have a lien on your property, except the current head of the House of Evans. His Majesty the King has given me full powers to act on his behalf in this."

"What is this?" Seamus asked, daring to hope.

Luna replied, "This is the lien on your family's property in Cork. It is currently held in trust by the Goblins of Gringotts for Harold Evans until you reach the muggle age of majority, at which time it will revert to you."

Fiona "Squee-eed!" and ran around the table to enfold all three 'Royals' in a tearful hug.

_"__Go raibh maith agaibh__!"_

Seamus whispered, "How can we ever hope to repay you?"

"You can repay me by being the best damn cattleman in Cork County, and when the Herefords go to market, be sure to remember our other business partners."

"Partners, maybe, but we'll always be proud to call ourselves your vassals, sire."

Luna shrieked in laughter and placed the petroleum jelly on the documents.

Hermione, startled by Luna's unexpected explosive mirth asked, "What is it, Luna?"

Wiping a tear from her eye, she cleared her throat and, indicating the jar on the document, said, "Why, it's a Vassal lien, of course."

)O(

Okay, okay, I'll stop here. But it could have been worse, as the lien _is_ in the County of Cork…

_Go raibh maith agaibh_, is Irish for "Thank you," when you are thanking more than one person, it's pronounced, "guh rev mah ah-gwiv." For the record, I actually do have an aunt Fiona and an Uncle Seamus.

Oh, and while we're on the subject, I love a good accent, be it Scottish or Irish or Welsh. Sometimes they're hard to understand, but usually they add a bit of local color and charm to a story. I have the best Brit-picker anywhere, period. However, it's my choice to use accents where and when I think they're appropriate, and, as the author, I take full responsibility.

It's Memorial Day Weekend and I'm visiting family and friends in Hampton VA.

Twenty five years ago, at the height of the Cold War, I was a Naval Aviator, sub chaser. One fine Navy day, the Ops Officer came into my division and asked if any of us wanted to 'spend a couple of weeks on board a submarine.'

Guys were diving under desks to avoid being 'volunteered,' but I thought, "What better place to learn about the adversary than in his own environment?"

Two weeks later I stepped off my P-3 and onto SSN 709, the USS HYMAN G. RICKOVER, a Los Angeles Class Fast Attack Submarine.

As the only Airedale on board I got a lot of good natured grief.

"We don't think much of your brown shoes, flyboy."

"Yeah, and I bet you just hate the leather jacket too, bubble head."

It was all in good fun, and the following month, when the Sub sailors did a fam-flight on my P-3, I showed them an equally good time.

Airsickness bags may or may not have been involved. Don't ask, I won't tell.

On this day we honor those who have given their all in the defence of their country. Some people will never know what it's like to dedicate themselves to an ideal, something greater than the individual self.

They are to be pitied.

Whatever your nationality, if you live in a country where your voice and your vote count, thank a vet.

N!


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

A raven landed in the middle of breakfast. That is, in the middle of the Merlins' oblong table during breakfast. In its beak was a tightly wound roll of vellum, wax sealed with Goblin runes.

Luna deftly pulled the document, replacing it with a silver sickle. The bird flew off in a flurry of feathers and noise.

"I'd forgotten that most birds flap their wings with a lot of noise." Harry said, giving his beloved owl a gentle caress.

Hermione nodded, "Yes, owls are so quiet, never making any noise when they fly."

"Makes em' silent, but deadly." Neville said.

Pansy covered her laugh with a faux cough.

Luna studied the wax seal, then handed the unopened document to Harry, "It's addressed to the _Huruz_, beloved son of the Matriarch."

"You can go ahead and open it, Luna."

She shook her head solemnly, "No, I can't. No one but the addressee can, please trust me on this."

"Okay…" Harry broke the wax seal and began to read.

"Humph, that's interesting, kinda useless, but interesting…"

Luna, Hermione, Neville and Pansy all stared. Finally, Hermione said, "Well, tell us."

"Oh, just that Brother Seneck has located another Pot, um, _family_ heirloom and will be sending it along."

"What is it?" Pansy asked.

"Um, it's an invisibility cloak."

"Those are rare." Neville said, awed, "And very expensive."

"Yeah," Pansy agreed, "Way too expensive when you realize that an invisibility cloak wears our after twenty years or so."

"Really?" Harry asked.

Luna nodded, "Oh yes, our demiguse fur cloaks will be simple everyday cloaks in about two decades."

"Humph, so why would I care that Brother Seneck has a cloak that's 'been in my family for untold generations, and is still as potent as it was when it first saw the light of day'?"

Luna and Pansy exchanged furtive glances. As if to say, "No, it couldn't be. Could it?"

)O(

Severus walked the two miles from the Hogwarts front gate to Hogsmeade. Early June was late spring, but in the Scottish highlands he was glad of his billowing black robes and a warming charm. He'd just passed the Hogs Head when, with a slight stumble, he fell to the cobblestones, arms and legs askance, stunned.

He came to in a chamber he'd seen only once before. On that fateful day when his power to choose had been taken away.

June 21st 1977

"Miss Evans?"

Lily turned, then sighed, "What do you want, Severus?"

"Only to let you know that I have made a choice. I, I know I've made some bad decisions. The worst was in thinking I had to follow the bulk of my House in support of a Dark Lord. But this is going to be our last year, and all I want, all I need, is for you to… to…"

Lily used a single crooked finger to remove the tear from her eye, "I'm not stupid, Sev. I've known all along how you feel - and, please don't take this the wrong way, but I've always thought of you as a brother…"

She stopped, embarrassed for him as he'd winced, _well, no man wants to be thought of as a brother who's not a brother._

Gamely, she soldiered on, "But…"

Severus raised his hand, "What I was going to say was, I need for you to approve of me. That's all. I want to be the friend you'll turn to when an insufferable 'toe-rag', who shall remain nameless, hurts you."

"And your Death Eater friends?"

"Are no friends of mine. Never have been and they never will be."

"Oh, Sev. Promise?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die."

Lily had pulled him into a fierce hug.

"I've missed you so."

Severus felt his heart glow as her love washed over him. It was filial love, not romantic, but it would suffice.

"Lils," he said, holding her at arm's length, "I want you to know, that your happiness is all that matters. If you're truly happy with… _him_. Then I will try to be happy for you."

In his heart of hearts he knew that wasn't true, but he _would_ try to be whatever his first and only friend needed him to be.

He'd left her in the company of her fellow Gryffindors and boarded the train for home when he caught a glimpse of red out of the corner of his eye, then knew no more.

He woke up in a chamber, a cavern. He could see stalactites pointing down from the ceiling at him, and stalagmites all around. Some larger than others.

One of the largest stalagmites moved, "There is an order to the Universe, Mister Snape, and you are upsetting the balance."

"What, who?"

"Here is what is going to happen. The current Dark Lord is in need of a potions expert, you are two years shy of your mastery, but can already brew all the potions he will need."

Severus stood tall.

"You can't make me."

"Oh, is that a challenge?"

"Go ahead, kill me. And I'll know with my dying breath that I never betrayed my friend."

"You mean, this one?"

A light shone on one of the limestone columns created as the limestone formations met in the middle of the cavern. Tied to the column was a naked girl with fiery red hair.

Severus felt an icicle form in the pit of his stomach.

"No. Lily, _no!"_

Severus Snape couldn't move, that is from the neck down. A localized prettification hex.

Two figures, hooded and cloaked, approached the woman, the man on the right held a whip, a cat o' nine tails in his left hand, the man on the left held an identical scourge in his right.

With practiced ease, each man dipped his cat into a bucket that Severus knew would be filled with brine. As the whips were drawn, dripping from the buckets, flicks of the wrist caused the barbed and weighted ends to flare so that each scourge would cover the maximum area of skin possible.

"No, please!"

"Miss Evans is a distraction, Severus, one that you can ill afford. Begin."

Severus shrieked and cried as the men flailed away at the bare, unprotected back. He begged them to whip him instead, "Please, please… I'll do anything…"

"Yes, Severus Snape, you will."

Barbed, leaded tips made the cats horrifyingly efficient, as each lash removed bits of flesh even as the strands, soaked in salt water, bit into soft, bare skin.

Severus didn't know how long they punished her. He only knew that his own voice was hoarse from begging, pleading, screaming as loud as she.

Then the cavern echoed with profound silence.

The woman had stopped screaming. She didn't cry, she didn't react to the flails as they cut her, flensed her until the backs of her ribs were exposed.

She was dead.

"Kill me." He sobbed, "Please, kill me now."

"Why, Severus?"

"Because you have taken the only thing in the world that matters to me."

"No, we haven't."

One of the torturers cut the woman down, and, as the lifeless husk fell with a wet splat, Severus could see it wasn't his Lily.

He cried.

He cried tears of relief that it hadn't been his love.

He cried tears of remorse for the unknown woman who'd been whipped to death just to impress upon him that this _could_ have been his Lily.

He cried tears of guilt and shame because he knew they _owned_ him.

June 1992

The voice, the exact same voice he'd heard fifteen years before, greeted him.

"Have you so soon forgotten, Professor Snape, the lessons learned on our last meeting?"

Severus chose his most neutral voice and demeanour, "Hardly. But the Dark Lord is dead, and those who supported him are either dead, in hiding, or much, much poorer."

"Don't be so sure of your 'facts', Severus."

"The only salient fact is that you no longer have any hold over me. You can kill me, or not. Torture me, or not. It no longer matters."

"Oh, never you, Severus, but say… your young charges."

The professor felt that familiar icicle, forming in his gut. "You would put children to the lash?"

"We will obliterate any and all who stand in our way, and there are ripples emanating from Hogwarts, disturbing ripples."

"What would you have me do?"

"Only what you have done for years, Professor Snape. Maintain the status quo."

A bright red light, and then blackness.

"'Ere ya go, Professor Snape, nasty tumble you took there."

"Hag, Hagrid?"

"There, that's better now innit?"

They were inside the Hogs Head, and Hagrid was pushing a glass of pepper-up potion toward him. The dubious brew was in a glass of doubtful cleanliness served by a man of questionable hygiene.

Severus sniffed it and said, "If one of my NEWT level students produces a potion of this quality, he or she will find themselves banished from my class forever."

Hagrid gave the brew a cursory sniff as well, "Well, it may have gone past its date… a bit."

With a sigh, Professor Snape downed the effervescent sludge in a single gulp. _If it poisons me,_ he thought, _at least my troubles will be over_.

)O(

Draco Malfoy was in a quandary.

He'd had a good year, all told. His grades were near the top of his year, he had the grudging respect of his peers and even some of the upper forms. His father had given him an odd instruction.

"Tell the Lovegood girl to hop on one foot."

And then Malfoy senior had laughed.

The end of year exams had come and gone, and yet the Merlins were still up to their arses in books and parchments in the library. Researching. Always researching _something_.

"Um, Lovegood?"

"Yes, Draco."

"Ah, hop on one foot… please?"

Luna looked quizzically at him for only a moment, then began to bounce on her left foot.

"Um, thank you Lovegood. You can stop now."

"Did you expect that to happen?" She asked.

Draco shrugged, "I really didn't know what would happen, it's just something that, um, someone told me to have you do."

"I see." Luna looked for a moment as though she was studying the Slytherin firstie, then said, "I don't believe you are evil. Well, not any more than any other eleven-year-old boy, you don't go about torturing small animals, do you?"

Draco looked a little ill. "No, that would be Crabbe and Nott." He shuddered at an unpleasant memory.

Luna took a deep breath, then let half of it out. "When your father asks you what I did, tell him that I did nothing. He may get angry, if he gets very angry, send an owl to the Quibbler, office of the assistant editor, okay?"

"I never said my father…"

Luna raised one hand, "Draco, please, don't ever think a Merlin is stupid, or uninformed. Simply assume we know more of what's going on than anyone suspects. There are no secrets in this school as far as we are concerned."

Draco reddened, "You've been spying on me?"

"Not you personally, Draco. But there isn't a single signalling mirror we're not tapped into."

Draco paled, "Then, you knew about…"

"The Hogan siblings? Oh yes."

"But they…"

"Did as they were told, yes they did."

"Then how…"

"How did I avoid being dosed with tainted veritaserum? Did you know one potions vial looks pretty much like any other? I switched bottles on them is all."

"Wait, _tainted_ veritaserum?"

"Oh yes, if they had been successful, I would be, um, rather _suggestible_ now."

Draco felt all the blood run to his feet. His father had arranged for the High Chamberlain of a Royal Family to be poisoned.

"I, I can't, I can't do this…"

Draco broke down and sobbed. "He's my father, I'm a Malfoy. I have to do what he tells me to do. He's the Head of the Family."

Luna looked pensive for a moment, "There's an old muggle saying, 'you can choose your friends, but you can't choose your family', but, what if you could?"

Thoroughly confused, Draco just stared, open mouthed, at Luna.

Looking as though she were studying the ceiling Luna mused aloud, "I think it's time I had a little talk with Stubby Boardman."

)O(

Four-thirty, and the Merlins were standing outside the potions classroom, which was uncharacteristically locked.

Harry knocked four times, "Professor Snape, are you in, sir?"

"Well, he did tell us to be here. _Alohamora!"_

The door creaked open.

The room was dark, and none of the reagents were out for the day's lab - a fairly complex blood restoration brew.

"Professor Snape?"

The door to the Professor's office was ajar.

The dungeon was dark, and Snape's office was even darker.

Five voices whispered, "Lumos!"

Severus was face-down on his desk, a half-empty bottle of Ogden's Firewhiskey lay on its side.

"Drunk?"

"I didn't think he drank." Neville said, "Always in control, that one."

Luna said, "Maybe he got some bad news."

"One way to find out." Harry said, then began transfiguring desks into simple cots, complete with fluffy pillows, "Let's go visit him in his dreams."

Harry lay down in one cot. Luna pulled hers alongside to the left of his, Hermione to his right. Pansy pulled hers next to Neville's then took his hand in hers. Smiling, they willed themselves to sleep.

Professor Snape was in Hell.

He was shackled to a wall, stripped to the waist, as a daemon flogged him.

Every time the whip came down his back was ripped open, but, as the devil drew back his arm, Snape's back would heal itself, only to be torn again, and then again by the whip.

"Stop!" Harry yelled.

And to his amazement, the daemon stopped.

A reptilian face smiled most unpleasantly and rasped, "You have no power here, boy!"

All around the daemon, ghosts began to appear. However, as this was Dreamscape, the ghosts were all corporeal.

The daemon, aloof, self-assured and powerful in his own right, paled as the entire company of headless horsemen galloped into the cavern. He ran, screaming, into the dark recesses of Hell.

Pansy ran up to Snape, touched her wand to his shackles, then guided him down to the cave floor.

"Don't." the professor begged, "Please don't."

"Shush now, Professor, you'll be okay."

"No, no. No I won't. I'll never be okay. Please. You have to go. Leave me to my fate."

Neville looked around, "No one deserves this, Professor."

"Are you sure, Mister Longbottom?"

Neville nodded.

Severus looked at the five faces, especially into the emerald green eyes of Lily's cousin, Harold Evans.

"If only I had my wand…" and Severus was startled as his wand appeared in his hand.

"And a pensieve?"

The stone basin appeared before him.

He drew memories out of his head, then placed them into the stone bowl.

"Let me show you." He said, "Then maybe you'll leave me to my just reward."

Harry's heart raced as he realized he was seeing his mother, and her sister, Aunt Petunia, whom Lily Evans had called 'Toonie'. And young Severus Snape.

They were good for each other. Surely his mother could see that.

Potter and Black were bullies of the worst kind. If you weren't one of the cool kids, you were a victim. With a sinking, sick feeling, he realized that the leader of this merry band of bullies was his own dad.

_Oh god, oh god, oh god, my mum married him?_

Little Sevie had a hard life at home, an abusive alcoholic for a dad, and a sad, abused witch for a mum.

_How is that possible, didn't she know she was a witch?_

The final confrontation with his father, Tobias Snape, happened over his mother's grave.

Abused at home, tormented at school. Frustrated beyond belief, he'd used that awful word.

"Mudblood."

Oh how he'd wished for a time-turner at that moment. Anything to take it back.

The reconciliation.

"I need you to approve of me… Cross my heart, hope to die."

Hooded figures surrounding him, "Is that a challenge?"

The horror that followed.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…"

Severus begging Voldemort to spare her, then begging Dumbledore to protect her.

His world ending on All Hallows Eve.

The only thing keeping him alive, the hope that he could, somehow, protect Lily's son.

The death of Harry Potter.

The emptiness.

The apothecary's shop.

Her eyes, her hair, her skill with potions.

The cavern

"Maintain the status quo."

They all fell out of the pensieve.

Neville was vibrating in anger, "You! You told Voldemort about the Potters!"

Harry put a calming hand on Neville's shoulder. "Don't you see, Neville? He never had a chance, never had a choice."

Pansy was with Neville, "I don't see how you can live with yourself, Snape."

"Professor Snape," Harry chided, gently, "And he can't. That's why he spends his time in Hell, trying to work off the guilt and shame and self-loathing."

"How can you say that?" Neville insisted, "Lily Evans was your family."

"I know that, Neville, better than anyone, believe me. But I also know that this man has been through Hell and back countless times and there's only one way out for him."

"And what's that?" Pansy groused.

Luna kneeled before the broken man and said, "Only through grace."

She looked up at her friend, her soulmate, and begged him with her eyes.

He knelt.

"I, Harry of the Blood of Evans, on behalf of the families Evans and Potter, forgive you."

Severus Snape shook his head, "No, you can't, I don't deserve it."

Harry and Luna were joined by Hermione, who knelt with them, "No, you don't. That's why it's called grace. It can't be earned, it can only be freely given."

"They'll come for you. I was useless to her, I'm afraid that I won't be able to help you, to protect you."

"We guard and defend each other, Professor." Harry said, his voice thick with emotion, "_All_ of us."

Harry, Luna and Hermione pulled Severus Snape into a group hug. Pansy and Neville looked uncertain.

The three committed Merlins looked hopefully to the two who were vacillating, pleading with their eyes.

Pansy grimaced, "Oi, no fair! You're all lookin' at me with those big puppy-dog eyes..."

Neville sighed, "Bollocks, if you're going to forgive him, then I have to too."

"No, Neville," Harry said, still pleading with his eyes, "it's your choice, mate. Something this man has never been given."

Pansy, then Neville, fell into the cluster clinch.

And Severus Snape felt unconditional love, and acceptance, and, for the first time in his life, peace.

"If nothing else," the professor said from within the huddle, "This has been a good dream, the first I've had in many a year."

"One enters Dreamscape through sleep, Professor, but I assure you, what happens here is quite real."

Snape looked up to see the Bloody Baron, tall and corporeal, attended by the Hufflepuff Friar and… "Miss Myrtle?"

Myrtle curtsied, "Myrtle Malone, sir. Ravenclaw, fifth form, Nineteen Forty-two."

What followed was a description of Dreamscape, and the manner in which the Merlins were making use of it.

"Come," Myrtle said, "Let us show you."

She led him to a barber's chair, where she fussed over his hair for a moment.

"Humph, this needs a wash, this does. Lean back, Professor."

He did and discovered his head was in a sink, having warm water sprayed into his hair.

When the ghost girl started massaging shampoo into his scalp he groaned with pleasure.

"I'll give you all night to stop that."

Myrtle chuckled, then rinsed, then repeated.

She sat him upright again, towel-drying his freshly washed hair.

From there it was simple to comb, and trim all the split ends. Then a brush with a drying charm and Severus Snape looked and felt like a new man.

The professor asked, "What is the date today?"

"The Sixth of June, sir. Why do you ask?"

"Because, from now on, this will be the day I celebrate my re-birth."

And he smiled.

)O(

Sirius Black stood in the queue waiting to see a bank official when a smallish goblin rasped, "Chief Warlock, come with me."

Feeling rather pleased that the Goblin Nation had been apprised of his new status, he followed the little fellow into the Gringotts meeting room.

The little goblin bowed low, then left.

Sitting at the table was the Goblin Seneck, whom Sirius mistook for a ranking bank official.

Giving the 'bank manager' a perfunctory nod, Sirius looked around for a chair. Then realized there wasn't one. It began to dawn on him that this wasn't your average goblin.

"Mister Black," the goblin began, "it has come to our attention that certain of your family members have been ill used by other members of your clan."

"How so?"

The demi-troll on guard gripped his halberd so that his knuckles whitened, how _dare_ this human address the Goblin Seneck so casually?

"Walburga Black disowned your cousin, Andromeda Black, upon her marriage to Theodore Tonks."

"Yes…"

"As matriarch to the Family Black, she could only do so for the span of her own lifetime, all titles, dowries and properties should have been returned to Mrs Tonks upon the death of your mother."

"Ah, I see, that's good to know, um, sir. But at the time of my mother's death, I was, shall we say, indisposed?"

"Yes, we know of your illegal imprisonment in Azkaban."

"Then there's the matter of your other cousin, Narcissa Black Malfoy."

"What of her? She chose to marry that ponce."

"Did she now, are you sure?"

"Of course, every woman has the right of refusal. She could have had anyone, she chose Malfoy."

"Chief Warlock, I am going to be patient with you for the sake of your office and the fact that you're still suffering from the effects of your unjust imprisonment…"

"I beg your pardon?"

"…as well you should, Mister Black. Do not interrupt me again, to do so will find all your accounts frozen as Gringotts would have to do a careful inventory and accounting of all the Black properties and monies, down to the last knut.

"Ah, I see by your expression you understand what that would entail, very good. Now that I have your undivided attention, we may proceed."

The Seneck shuffled a few sheaves of parchment, "Neither Narcissa, nor Bellatrix had a 'right of refusal' as you put it. Their father, your uncle, Cygnus Black, pledged them to the Tom Marvolo Riddle to use as he pleased. It pleased Riddle, known to wizard-kind as 'Lord Voldemort' to gift the then fifteen and nineteen year old girls to his chief lieutenants at that time, Lucius Malfoy and Rodolphus Lestrange. Lucius got first pick, he chose the younger.

Their wills and their magic were bound to that of their husbands in 1970, by your calendar. They have been their husbands thralls ever since."

Sirius desperately wished for a chair, lest he fall down.

"I, I never knew. How could I have known?"

_Because_, The Seneck thought, _like most wizards, your life has been about me, me, me. The centre of your own little universe… pathetic._

"Be that as it may, the Malfoy and Lestrange men broke their filial and familial bonds with the Family Black when they pledged themselves, body, soul and magic, to Tom Riddle, then allowed themselves to be branded like cattle. In doing so, they became oath breakers."

The last phrase, the final two works were spat out as if poisonous.

"What can I do?" Sirius asked, in a small voice.

"Goblin advice is not easy to follow for, well, those like yourself, and may be costly."

"I'll pay whatever price you ask."

"A very dangerous thing to say to a Goblin, Chief Warlock."

"Even so, I'll pay it."

"Very well, you want to reform the Wizard-kind judiciary, to right wrongs, to set things to right?"

"Yes, more than anything."

"Then resign from the Wizengamot. Get your own house in order. You can't be a teacher before you have, yourself, learned."

Sirius nodded, humbly.

"Oh, and one more thing, study Goblin customs. If it were not for my forebearance, your head would be on the floor right now for the lack of respect you have shown me."

Sirius' head snapped up, "Sir?"

The Goblin leader shook his head and would have sighed, had he been human, "The correct form of address is Goblin Seneck, it is my name and it is my office. The closest thing to it in your tongue is 'God-King', and you are standing on Hallowed Goblin Ground.

Sirius Black fell to his knees, "I apolo…"

"Stop! Never apologize to Goblin-kind, it is a sign of weakness, and we kill off our weak."

"I, I don't understand, Goblin Seneck, but I promise that I will strive to, from this day forward."

The Seneck nodded approvingly, "Perhaps there is hope for you yet. One last bit of advice."

Sirius looked up expectantly.

"Work closely with the House of Merlin at Hogwarts, learn as much as you can from them, help them whenever you can."

"Thank you, Goblin Seneck, I will. Now, as to the manner of payment?"

"You have already begun to pay, Mister Black."

"Sir, I mean, Seneck?"

"The cost shall be your much vaunted pride."

)O(

I know the 'Snape Haters' will blast me for making Severus a sympathetic character in this story. What can I say? We flipped a coin and the Potions Professor won…

Draco has a chance and a hope of turning out better as well. It's still too early to say.

Bigger than usual thanks to Tommy King, our marvelous Brit-picker, for an amazingly quick turnaround - I'll try not to cut it so close in the future. Cheers, mate!


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Severus woke the following morning as the sun poured in via the skylight.

_Wait, skylight?_

_My bedchamber is in the dungeon._

Nevertheless, sunlight obstinately beamed into the room, brightening everything.

He sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes and, in the process, found himself holding an armful of plush, fluffy… something.

He held it at arm's length and saw, to his horror, a caricature of the Slytherin House Emblem, a soft, downy, plush, smiling, green and silver snake cuddle-up.

Snape scowled, but had to appreciate the fine craftsmanship.

The toy had a Cheshire cat kind of grin, infectious, compelling. It was also charmed to be charming, fluttering its long lashes.

The professor's scowl lessened.

'Teddie' snake warbled, then purred contentedly.

Severus smiled.

But when the cuddle-up laid a soft cheek on the professor's forearm, trilling for attention he laughed.

The first, honest laugh Severus Snape had produced in many a year - not since he was a schoolboy, not since he'd been friends with _her._

He was as pleased as he was surprised to find joy in his own laughter, and he promised himself a healthy dose of mirth, everyday, until the scowl lines etched into his face became a distant memory.

"Only Miss Lovegood would think of such a thing."

He looked at his bedside table and saw it was nearly half-seven. "No classes today, students are going home for the summer hols. Wake me at seven, please."

The 'skylight' dimmed and Professor Snape burrowed back into his duvet, cuddling the snake teddie, smiling.

To say his entrance into the Great Hall for breakfast was unexpected would be a gross understatement.

Gone were the black billowing 'bat-robes', and in their place, a well tailored muggle suit topped off by a cape of green so dark as to be almost black. Parvati Patil recognized the suit as Armani's current offering - her father had several like it.

His hair was clean, practically glowing, and gathered in back with a leather tie.

The most striking change was the smile.

The warm, genuine smile with which he graced the Merlins' table first, then his colleagues at the Professors' table, then the rest of the school.

Wide-eyed and blinking, Minerva McGonagall managed to say, "Guid mornin, Severus."

"Guid mornin, Headmistress, Hou's aw wi ye?"

Filius Flitwick covered his guffaw with a faux cough, _did Severus Snape just tease Minerva McGonagall?_

)O(

The House of Merlin was packed and ready. Most were excited to be going home to family and friends, but none more so than Myrtle.

"Oh, I've been to Hogsmeade Village and points beyond, but, this part of the world is so sparsely populated, I always came back to the castle. I haven't been in a proper house since the Summer of Forty-two."

Harry chuckled, "Well, I'm not sure the Lovegoods' tower is a proper 'house', but it _is_ home."

This earned him a smile and a hug from Luna.

"And Daddy got a permanent floo-connection for the Grangers' house, so we can visit Kensington as well."

Hermione nodded, then frowned, "Myrtle, will people be able to see you? Non-magical people, I mean."

The ghost girl smiled and shook her head, "No, not unless I want them to. That's the mark of a proper haunting."

"And my parents?"

"All you have to do is introduce me to them and them to me, and they'll be able to see me. But aren't you afraid it might scare them? I mean, a ghost in the house and all?"

It was Pansy's turn to laugh, "Myrtle, they have a witch for a daughter, I think you'll find them very accepting."

Hermione said, "And I'll be at the Lovegood 'Castle' as often as I can."

"Of course you will," Harry smirked, "because we can practice magic there all Summer."

Hermione rejoined, "Well, there's that too…"

With a triumphant "Whoop!" Neville enthused, "I got it!"

The four other Merlins looked and saw him holding what looked like a match box in the palm of his hand.

"Shrinking charm?" Pansy shrieked, "You got the shrinking charm!"

Looking rightfully smug, Neville said, "Yes. Yes I did."

"Brilliant," Hermione said, "Will you show me, um, _us_ how?"

"Sure. Nothing to it."

In short order everyone's trunk was shrunk down. The only hitch was when Harry tried to lift his and couldn't. The tiny box refused to budge, as if it were glued to the floor."

Neville pulled him aside, "Um, Harry. Did you lighten the trunk first?"

Harry, red faced, slapped his own forehead with his open palm as he realized he'd reduced the trunk full of books in size but not in mass.

"Oops."

A quick reversal, followed by a lightening charm, followed by the shrinking spell and the Merlins were off.

They were met at the Main Gate by the still-smiling Professor Snape, "I know you plan to continue your advanced studies over the Summer, so I thought you might like this."

He gave Harry a dog-eared, battered old Sixth-form potions text.

"Um, thank you, Professor Snape." Harry said, tentatively.

"Open it."

Harry did and, seeing the heavily annotated margins, grew more and more animated as he flipped through the pages, "This, this is… _Brilliant!_ Thank you, Professor, thank you!"

"This was my text for NEWT level potions, as you can see, I made some modifications here and there. Feel free to do the same. I know you'll be as brilliant at it as, well, as another potions prodigy I had the honor to know."

Decorum be damned, Harry hugged the tall professor, who returned the gesture in kind.

No further words were needed.

Luna smiled and handed Severus a thin book, saying, "It's not a first edition or anything, but I thought you might enjoy a little light reading."

Severus opened to the title page and read, _A Christmas Carol, in Prose, being a Ghost Story of Christmas, by Charles Dickens, with Illustrations by John Leech_. "If I recall, it's the story of an irredeemable, wretched, covetous old sinner whose life is completely turned around by ghosts and friends. All in a single night. Could we possibly imply an analogy here?"

Luna shrugged, "Well…"

He smiled, "It's been a long, long time since I've read this. I will enjoy it, thank you, thank you very much."

He gathered Luna into a hug and whispered, "God bless us, everyone."

The thestral-drawn carriages were lined up, and, owing to the very public departure of Quirrell in the Great Hall the previous January, everyone could see the otherwise invisible winged equines. The magical animals patiently endured having their flanks petted and patted before all the coaches were loaded and ready to set off.

The ride to London was, for the most part, uneventful. A very subdued Draco Malfoy politely knocked on their compartment door, then asked, "Pansy, what can I tell my father about, um, what we talked about."

Pansy bit back the first thing she wanted to say, but then, not unkindly, said, "Tell him that I need some more time, after all, I'm not yet twelve years old and that's much too early to be making a life changing decision, don't you think?"

Draco half-smiled and nodded, "Thank you, that should give us a little time at least."

As the youngest Malfoy retreated down the corridor with Goyle in tow, Hermione asked, "Where's Crabbe? I thought he was a Malfoy hanger-on."

Pansy frowned, "Apparently there was a falling out between Malfoy and Nott in Slytherin House. Greg Goyle went with Draco, and Vincent Crabbe with Theo Nott."

"I wonder what it was about?" Harry asked.

Myrtle faded into view, "According to the Bloody Baron… Um, can I just call him by his name?"

Surprised, Pansy asked, "You know his name?"

"Of course, it's Aaron."

Harry smiled, "So, he's the Bloody Baron Aaron?"

Hermione giggled, "No wonder he doesn't want anyone to know, 'Bloody Baron' is intimidating, 'Baron Aaron' is somewhat less so."

"Could be worse," Myrtle shrugged, "The gargoyle that guards the Headmaster's, well, now the _Headmistress's_ office, is named Irving."

Bringing everyone back on task, Luna asked, "So, what happened in Slytherin?"

"According to Millie, you know, Millicent Bulstrode?"

They all nodded.

"Well, Millie said there was this big row in the common room, and Draco was calling for the Slytherins to maintain a low profile, not do anything that would draw undue attention to themselves. Meanwhile, Nott is complaining that all the advantages he'd grown up hearing about, pureblood supremacy stuff, you know?"

Again, they all nodded.

"Pureblood rule didn't count for anything anymore, how no one gave him proper respect for being from a pureblood family and how half-bloods and mudbloods needed to start wearing signs proclaiming their blood status.

"Then Draco said something about, 'Yes, blood is important, but what really mattered was magical power and ability.' Nott called him a 'blood traitor' and they pulled wands on each other and half the firsties sided with Draco while the other half, purebloods all, stood with Nott. A prefect had to break them up."

"What did Professor Snape do when he found out?" Harry asked.

"Apparently no one told him."

"Uh, oh." Neville mused aloud, "Makes you wonder who's really running that House."

Harry frowned, "Professor Snape needs to know. I'll write and tell him. Pansy, could you write Millie and ask if she can remember any other incidents like that one?"

They had to un-shrink one of the student trunks, Hermione's in fact, to get to some writing materials. The quills on top were the ones that had been charmed to write remotely. They sprang to life as soon as Harry put nib to parchment.

_There are men here from the Ministry of Magic, part of some kind of census. They're asking some rather pointed questions about how you are treated in our home. Have to stop writing now, one is pointing his wand…_

The pen stopped writing.

Hermione stared at the parchment, "That's Mum's handwriting, you don't suppose…"

"We're still three hours out," Harry said, "and even if we flew our brooms we'd only gain an hour at most."

Luna pulled out her trunk and un-shrunk it. Finding her own copy quill, she penned a quick note to her father.

No response.

She folded the missive and said, "Harry, give this to Hedwig. Have her take it to Daddy, something's not right with the Grangers."

Harry tied the short missive to his beloved owl's leg and whispered, "Fly, sweetheart, fly like you've never flown before!"

Neville opened the compartment window and Hedwig was off like a shot. Then Pansy closed the window as the wind was threatening to blow loose paper and small objects out the window.

Luna sat with Hermione and drew her into a tight hug, "Hedwig will be there in seconds, she's a right clever bird and a post owl to boot. She can fly through apparation space."

Harry sat on her other side and added, "She's probably found Xeno already."

A few more tense moments and Hedwig reappeared, flying parallel to the compartment.

Hermione jumped up to open the window.

When Hedwig was safely inside and the window was again closed, Harry removed the scrap of parchment that was Xeno's reply.

_Hermione's parents have been registered by the Ministry of Magic as the non-magical guardians of a witch. They are okay, for now, we'll talk at length when you arrive. _

_See you soon, _

_Xeno_

The King's Cross Express hadn't ground to a halt when five anxious eleven and twelve year olds hopped off an onto Platform Nine and Three-quarters. There was Xeno, with Marissa Sessions, the first Healer Harry had met and, Fredrick and Helen Granger, safe and sound. Hermione ran, sobbing into their arms, "Oh, Mum, Dad, I… _we_ were so worried!"

Neville and Pansy leaned into Harry and Luna and, in low tones, asked, "Do you need me and Pansy to go with you?"

"Thanks, mate. But I think we can sort it out. See you in Dreamscape later?"

"Oh, you know it." With that, Neville and Pansy went in search of their families.

Helen asked her daughter, "What had you so worried, Dear?"

"There was just a fragment of a message about people from the Ministry in our house, pointing wands…"

Fredrick chuckled, as if going along with a joke, "Whatever do you mean, Poppet? What note? What people?"

Luna, smiling brightly, said, "Oh, you! Hermione is always pranking us one way or another."

Then a significant glance to Xeno, who caught on quickly. "Well, let's be off then. First stop, The Leaky Cauldron, then on to home. Come along, Grangers, you're invited, of course."

The two dentists fell into step behind Xenophilius Lovegood.

Harry noticed that, in spite of the unseasonably warm late spring afternoon air, both Grangers wore long-sleeved shirts and jackets.

A short taxi ride to the magical pub and the entourage flooed to the Lovegoods' home.

As soon as the Grangers exited the fireplace Marissa dropped her wand from its sleeve holster into her hand, and directed the non-magicals to the overstuffed couch

"Won't you have a seat?"

They did and the Healer asked, "All comfy now? Good. _Somnus."_

And the Grangers slept.

Hermione began to get nervous again, "What is it, what's going on with my parents?"

Marissa scanned the sleeping muggles with her white Healer's Wand and three different diagnostic crystals.

Luna, very concerned, said, "Look at their left arms. There's something magical just above their inside-left elbows."

The Healer cocked one eyebrow, but did as asked.

"Bloody Hell!"

Hermione, crying now, begged, "What is it?"

"It's a Goddess-damned _protean mark."_

"A what?"

Marissa, looking very perturbed, said, "If the children could leave the room, please."

All three children stood resolute. Harry spoke for the group, "I don't think so, Healer Sessions."

With a sigh, Marissa touched the Grangers' jackets with her wand, making them disappear and then reappear, neatly folded on the sideboard. She then touched their shirts, leaving Helen in her bra and Fredrick in his undervest.

Sure enough, inside and slightly above the elbow joint there was a tattoo, an _ing_ rune with a vertical line running through it. Picture two large Xs, one atop and connected to the other, with a vertical, bisecting line.

"It's a binding rune, and a protean charm. Someone had branded your parents like cattle, and placed a geas on them."

"What kind of geas?"

"One that forces them to comply with any command given by any witch or wizard."

Xenophilius groaned, "Oh no, the Harry Potter Child Welfare and Protection Act. It must have passed."

"But that requires the Queen's Endorsement." Marissa said, more than a little peeved.

"Not if the vote in the Wizengamot is unanimous."

"But it still requires the Royal Consent before becoming law."

"Any bill that garners unanimous support is sure to have the Queen's Approval."

Marissa was getting angrier by degrees, "But what the Ministry has done to these people is illegal!"

Xeno held up both his hands, palms out, and said, "I'm just being the devil's advocate here, as soon as the Queen signs off on the Bill it becomes the Law of the Monarchy, Magical and Mundane alike."

Miss Myrtle floated into the centre of the room, "If I may?"

Marissa looked askance at Xenophilius, "You didn't tell me your home was haunted."

"It's not, well, it wasn't. Um, pardon me, Miss…"

"Myrtle, Myrtle Malone, you might remember me from Hogwarts?"

Xeno and Marissa simultaneously said, "_Moaning_ Myrtle?"

"An unfortunate appellation, but yes, that's me."

"How is it that you're here?" Xeno asked.

"By invitation, and good thing too. I think we can help."

"We?"

Myrtle nodded, "The Ghosts of Great Britain."

)O(

Sirius Black was enjoying coffee with his best friend and closest advisor at the Black Family Property, Pembrokeshire, Wales, overlooking Freshwater West Beach.

"Remus, I have to do this. I have to get my own house in order before I lose myself in the pomposity of politics. Like a certain Minister of Magic who shall remain nameless."

The werewolf shrugged, "Too true, but think of all the good you could do."

"The Goblin Seneck had me exactly right, pride. Pride was how I survived Azkaban. It wasn't the sure and certain knowledge that I was innocent, well, innocent of the crimes I was imprisoned for. It was that I was sane, more or less, long after anyone else would have been driven completely insane.

"I carried my imprisonment as a diamond-hard point of pride when I found myself a free man. What I should have been was grateful for the ones who got me out, and I tried to be, I got them some nice awards and a very public pat on the back, but I stood to their right for the photos, you know why?"

"So your name would appear first on the caption."

Sirius nodded.

"So, I'm going to get my house in order. Care to come with me?"

"It'll upset the pureblood families if you're seen in the company of a known were."

"Won't it just?"

After coffee, the Chief Warlock and his werewolf companion apparated to the Malfoy Estate in Berkshire. The Lord of the Manor wasn't in, but the Lady was, and welcomed her cousin as the proper Head of her family. Sirius quickly fell into the pureblood dance of one-upsmanship and, conceding that Narcissa's husband had done rather well for himself by acquiring the estate as a dowry, asked to speak privately with the Malfoy son and heir.

Draco acted the proper pureblood prince, gracious and condescending in his own little castle, until Sirius simply told him, "Shut up, sit down and listen."

"The reason I'm speaking with you at all is because your mother, my cousin, is under a powerful enchantment, one that will not allow her to make an informed choice."

"But…"

"What part of 'shut up' did you not understand? Your maternal grandfather sold your mother to Lucius Malfoy for his support of the Dark Lord Voldemort. The conditions of the sale required that your mother be 'the perfect mate' for her husband. Tell me, Draco, when was the last time you saw your mother smile?"

Draco looked thoughtful, then said, "Never."

"She used to smile, quite a bit. Her smile would light up a room. And she danced and sang and was so full of life, so full of joy. It broke my heart when she married Lucius, because I knew it would be a joyless marriage, but I didn't know until it was much too late that it would be, for her, a joyless existence."

The boy looked around the house, and sighed. "What can I do?"

"You? Nothing. But there is something _I_ can do. If Narcissa's marriage were to be annulled, then she would revert to Narcissa Black."

"And I would be declared bastard." Draco's eyes narrowed, "You would do that to me?"

Sirius' glare was as effective as a silencing hex. "As I was saying. If your mother's marriage were to be annulled, she would revert to the Family Black, and her son could become my heir apparent."

"Could, not would?" Draco asked.

"Your choice, Draco. You could choose to stay with your father, who could adopt you after the annulment, or you could move into one of the Black Family Properties with your mum. I'll leave the choice up to you, but Narcissa will cease to be a Malfoy by the end of this day."

Three hours later, Sirius stood in the box reserved for the Chief Warlock and proclaimed, "I, Sirius Orion Black, Head of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black do hereby declare the marriages of my cousins, Narcissa Black and Bellatrix Black annulled. Dowries and properties to be returned to the Black Family, with interest."

Proper pandemonium ensues as the now Minor House of Malfoy objected strenuously. The Lestrange membership had reverted to the Rosier and Black families upon their imprisonment ten years prior.

"And now," Sirius continued, "As I have family members to see and care for, I must, with regrets, stand down from the post of Chief Warlock. One must put one's own house in order first, after all."

For the first time in four centuries, members of the Cabal looked at each other with frank uncertainty.

The most junior member of the Cabal, Lucius Malfoy, was terrified of the inevitable political and economic repercussions. What if the Cabal were to find him… unnecessary?

In the Estate formerly known as Malfoy, now reclaimed as the Black Berkshire Manor, Narcissa Black smiled.

"Dobby?"

"Yes, Mistress Black?"

Narcissa raised an elegant brow, "Please have any and all things belonging to Lucius Malfoy sent to his, um, _estate_ in Devon. There's a good elf."

"Yes, Mistress, we is already sending Malfoy things to the Malfoy cottage. Please, Mistress, is any elveses going with Malfoy Bad Faith Man?"

"I don't think so, Dobby, why break up what will finally become a happy home?"

)O(

Harry looked at his two best friends, then at Myrtle, "Care to test our theory?"

"Hypothesis."

"Beg pardon?"

Myrtle smirked, "It's only a hypothesis. When we've tested the hypothesis and have an experimental result it becomes a theory."

Hermione smiled, "That's the scientific method."

"Right in one. A hypothesis can only be a theory if there's evidence to support it."

"Fine," Harry said, exasperated, "nitpickers. Would you like to test our hypothesis?"

Luna looked at her father, "Daddy, Harry and Hermione and I are going to visit the Grangers in Dreamscape, would you like to come along, or just watch."

"Watching sounds kind of boring, sweetheart."

"I knew you'd say that, Daddy. Marisa?"

"I'll just keep an eye on you for now."

"Okay."

With that, Fredrick and Helen Granger were flanked on the left by Hermione and Harry and on the right by Luna and Xeno.

The children, used to entering Dreamscape at will, were asleep in mere seconds.

"How do they do that?" Xeno groused, "I can't simply fall asleep at the drop of a hat."

Marissa smiled and tapped her lover on the head with her wand, saying, "Somnus."

Xeno looked around the old room, "Where am I? Luna, are you here?"

From another chamber he heard, "In here, Daddy."

Entering he found the Grangers along with Harry and Luna.

Fredrick was recounting the visit from the Ministry.

"There was a knock at the door, and two men, in maroon robes, identified themselves as Officers of the Wizengamot, and asked to be let into our home. I didn't see any reason not to, and we had a pleasant little visit. I made tea."

Helen interjected, "There was something, I don't know, not right about those two men. I picked up the Copy Quill and began to write you a note, hoping you'd get it either on the train or just before getting on."

Fredrick picked up, "They kept asking more personal questions, did we know of and approve of our witch daughter's friends, had we ever spanked you. When the one guy asked if I still bathed you I put a stop to the questions. What kind of question is that? That's when the wands came out."

He looked at his bare arm and rubbed the tattoo, "That's when they gave me this, your mother too. I couldn't stop them, hell, I didn't want to."

Xeno looked disgusted, "That was a compulsion hex, or worse, it may have been an imperious curse, very dark magic, that. Then they obliviated you, to make you forget the visit."

"If they cast a spell to make us forget," Helen asked, "Then how do we remember everything."

"The spell doesn't really make you forget," Xeno explained, "it makes it hard for you to remember things. Marisa explains it better, but it's like there are roads to memories, the obliviation hex closes the roads. But when we dream, we remember all kinds of things."

"So… this is a dream?" Fredrick asked.

"Yes and no," a new voice said, "You're asleep, but Dreamscape is a real place. What happens here carries over into the waking world."

"Mum, Dad, please meet our friend Myrtle."

"Pleased to meet you Myrtle, are you in class with this lot?"

"Not exactly, Mrs Granger, I'm a ghost."

"You don't look like a ghost."

"Thank you."

"Look at the tattoos," Harry said. "You saw them before, didn't you?"

The question was directed at Luna, who nodded, "Yes, there was a swarm of Nargelites, no doubt from the protean hex on their arms. Can anyone not see them?"

Helen and Fredrick were the only ones who asked, "See what?"

"Okay, not everyone in Dreamscape can see Nargelites, but apparently witches and wizards can."

"Luna?" Harry asked, "Remember how you removed that geas from the Hogans?"

Hermione, suddenly very excited asked, "Oh, Luna, could you?"

Luna shrugged and said, "It's worth a try."

She gaze became somewhat glassy as she moved her open fingers in a circular pattern in the air above Fredrick's left arm.

Sure enough the glowing motes began to swirl like tiny models of galaxies, or the foam in a cup of coffee when you add cream and sugar and stir it.

Luna willed the Nargelites to spin faster and faster, then suddenly shunted the tiny lights straight to the ground.

"Mister Granger, how do you feel?"

"Fine, really. Oddest thing, I think I felt something, like when you shuffle your feet on a carpet and then touch a doorknob and there's a spark?"

That was when everyone noticed the tattoo was gone.

Helen Granger held out her arm, "If you would, please?"

Harry asked, "May I try?"

Luna nodded and Helen said, "So long as you can make this bloody awful tattoo go away. I never got a tattoo because I never wanted one."

Harry focused on the space just above Helen Granger's arm and began the same swirling motions he saw Luna use, to little effect.

"Concentrate on the lights themselves, Harry, and start slow."

With renewed effort, Harry did. He willed the Nargelites to swirl and spin and, after much effort, started to see a result.

"Excellent," Luna cried, clapping as she did, "Now Hermione, you give it a try."

Hermione took over and she spun the little galaxies of light faster and faster until the streaks of light became circles."

Luna said, "Good, now, both of you, on three, force the Nargelites to ground, one… two… Now!"

Four hands snapped down and the tiny motes snapped to the ground and disappeared.

Helen and Fredrick hugged the children, "Can we wake up now?"

"Sure."

The six people on the couch stirred all at the same time.

Marissa sat in a chair watching them with a crystal in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other.

"I've been a healer for ten years. If you had asked me yesterday, 'can anyone be cured of a protean hex?', I would have had to say, sorry. No, can't be done. And now I see two, one after the other, two protean marks, which are _supposed_ to be permanent, fade away like so much dark smoke."

She looked at Xeno, "Care to explain that, sweetie?"

Xenophilius looked sheepish, "Um, magic?"

)O(

Thank you, Tommy King, marvelous magical Brit-picker, oh yes you are. In this story, if the voice feels authentically British, then it's all because of Tommy.

Ah kin do a raht fahn Suthurn aksayunt, on account a ah live in the 'Merikun Sayouth… So if Hahr-ee comes on dayoun tuh Macon? We'z all say-at.

Gotta give credit where it's due, Slytherin66 put the idea of a snake plush cuddle-toy in my head and I couldn't get it out.

I knew my treatment of Snape would be controversial, oddly enough, the reviews in favor of the 'forgiven' Severus far outnumber the negatives. Many thanks to all who have read and reviewed, even the negatives. I welcome honest, constructive criticism, and have edited whole chapters when there is a compelling reason to do so. For those who don't know the difference between constructive criticism and flaming, I do still have my flame-retardant flight suit and gloves…

I have just a germ of an idea, a re-telling of Dickens' _A Christmas Carol_, with a Hogwarts cast. Snape is the Scrooge character. That little nugget was alluded to in this chapter.


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